


Help Me to See

by AmosLee1023



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Character Death, Drugs, F/M, Gore, Horror, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Psychological Torture, Psychotropic Drugs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Suspense, Thriller, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmosLee1023/pseuds/AmosLee1023
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle is becoming a lost cause, sitting at home and wasting away, so his friends decide it best to whisk him away onto a nice vacation to a hotel that Clyde found, three hours away and quiet, where famous writers would run away to for peace.<br/>But it isn't at all what anyone had thought: the rooms are soundproof, and there was a massacre in the 50's that left three whole floors dead and a man killed by lethal injection. The thing about all of that now, though, is that maybe the killer had never really been caught; or it's a copycat killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> It's all beta'd and a shit ton better!!

"Mom, I really do want to go."

Sheila pursed her lips at her son's exasperated voice before huffing. "Alright Kyle, but if anything happens and you want to come back- _call me_." Her voice was stern, motherly, and Kyle nodded while zipping up his hefty black suitcase.

Sheila's heavy hand rested on her son's shoulder and he looked to her, avoiding full eye contact up until this point. "We'll all be here when you get back, bubbie."

Kyle offered her a small, soft smile. "I know."

He snapped the lock on the suitcase and slipped his hand into the handle, and he grit his teeth hard while pulling the heavy case from his bed. Sheila watched with her red lips tight, her fingers pressing his shoulder in worry. Kyle didn't say anything to her; let her assure herself of his well-being, because he didn't want to make her cry by asking for help, or by telling her to leave him be.

l.l

"He _is_ coming, right?" Kenny asked.

Stan shrugged to him and motioned towards the house. "When I called him on Wednesday, he sounded pretty sure. _Hella_ sure." he spoke and scratched his head. Kenny puffed, leaning back against the car.

"Well, if we don't leave soon, we'll miss lunch," the blonde said, crossing his legs at the ankles.

"There's not anything good they're serving right now, anyway."

"But it's half off."

"You're so fucking poor." Stan rolled his eyes with a scoffed chuckle and pushed Kenny's arm, the blonde laughing to himself while crossing his arms. It was true, though; his stomach was rolling in hunger and he'd kill somebody if he was late to eating some well priced burgers- good quality or not: _food is food_.

Stan's eyes caught a glimpse of red, and he pointed to the front door of the house. "There he is."

Kyle looked at the two grinning adults and gave a meek smile in return while pulling the suitcase alongside him. He stepped off of the porch and made his way to the two, and Kenny pushed off of the car, dropping his arms to his sides.

Stan quirked an eyebrow at Kyle as the redhead approached. "You sleep last night?" The redhead's eyes were set in grey circles, and his eyelids looked heavy.

Kyle blinked and furrowed his eyebrows at the question, giving a slow nod and glancing between the two. "Why? What's up?"

The tension between the three was noticeable- and unintentional. Kyle hadn't left home in days, and before this, he had stopped calling and texting his friends. With what all was happening, it was hard for the two healthier of the three to mask their worry. It had been Shiela who convinced Stan to call Kyle, and she who had convinced her son to start answering the phone.

Stan opened his mouth to talk, but Kenny prevailed with a big grin. "Ready to play some games and get drunk?" He put his hands on his thighs to lean forward, and Kyle's laugh was quiet and small, but it was enough for Kenny.

"Yeah, my mom says hi." Kyle motioned back towards the house briefly and Stan nodded, Kenny waving at a window of the house in case Sheila was watching, but she wasn't.

Stan noticed Kyle's case and leaned forward, stealing it away from the redhead's slim hand and moving to place it in the back of the black car, sliding it in and behind the driver's seat on the floorboard.

"You really should let us carry this stuff, Kyle," he said and glanced back to the redhead, and the young adult crossed an arm over himself, pressing his lips together and staying quiet.

Kenny looked from Kyle to Stan, and he turned to Kyle to give him a big smile. "Buddy..." He stood straight and stepped to the smaller man, raising his arms and bringing them around Kyle in a hug. It felt nice to be in someone's arms again, Kyle had to admit, and he plopped his forehead against Kenny's shoulder, lifting an arm to pat his back softly. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of smoke and car oil with a thick coat of some kind of body wash lingering.

Stan walked to the driver's side of the car and placed his arms on the roof to watch his friends. "We ready guys?" He raised an eyebrow and Kenny let go of Kyle to reach back and scratch his neck with a lazy grin.

"Yeah, it's just been so long since we've all been together, that's all," the blonde said.

Stan huffed and nodded, because it had, and Kyle slipped his hands into his pockets and looked at the two with his small, meek smile. "Yeah," he agreed softly.

Graduation had been all but sweet for some of the South Park kids. Stan and Wendy had gotten engaged last month- which was a plus for them, and Clyde and Bebe had gotten accepted into the same college, dating long term and loving it. But their happy views of moving on in life contrasted with Kyle's.

Ike had OD'd four months ago and decided to skip town with Fillmore after recovering- against doctor's orders, and he had never returned, and there had been no word from him. Kyle had been 'okay' until about a week and a half ago; something in him just _changed,_ and whatever it was was still tearing himself up inside.

"Kyle."

Kyle blinked and shook his head to clear his thoughts, looking to Kenny from where the blonde now sat in the passenger seat with the door open, watching the redhead expectantly.

"Y-yeah?"

Kenny motioned to the back and forced out a cool laugh to make Kyle think he didn't notice the haze in his green eyes, but he had, and it was depressing. "You gonna get in 'er what?"

The redhead gave a quiet 'oh' and moved to the back, going to climb in beside his suitcase on the passenger's side. "Butters is coming, right?" He looked to the front and Stan nodded while turning the key in the ignition.

"Yep. And Wendy, and Clyde, and Bebe." He dragged while putting the car in drive. Kenny leaned back and kicked his booted feet up onto the dashboard, knocking small bits of crusted mud onto the nice interior.

"And Kevin!" the blonde called out.

"Your brother?" Kyle asked.

Kenny looked at Kyle through the rearview mirror with a quirked eyebrow. "No, Stoley. And Bradley, too."

Kyle flushed at his mistake and nodded, sinking back into the soft seat. "Oh. Sorry."

Kenny waved the redhead off and leaned forward to crank the radio's volume up some when Stan put his foot to the gas pedal.

"Nah it's cool. Kevin ran off with some girl from Connecticut," he said.

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows and moved his hands onto his lap to play with his fingers. He gave another 'oh', mostly to himself. It seemed like a lot of people were either moving on or moving out of South Park. Stan was engaged. Cartman was running some business somewhere that may or may not consist of some illegal activity. Kenny was…

Kyle chewed the inside of his cheek.

What _was_ Kenny doing? Was he a mechanic?

"Hungry, Kyle?"

Kyle looked to Stan and gave a small shake of his head with a smile. "No, I'm fine," he replied softly, and Stan and Kenny glanced to each other. Kenny huffed with his eyebrows raised incredulously and he rolled his gaze back to the windshield.

The fake smile and 'no I'm fine' stuff was plenty... _fake_ and the two knew it. Just when had they all become like this?

Stan glanced at Kyle through the rearview mirror. "You know you can tell us things, right? Like, if you're depressed or something."

"Stan!" Kenny looked to Stan and the noirette blinked, raising his fingers in defense while holding the steering wheel. He shook his head and gave a little breath.

"He meant that we're here for you. Always." Kenny looked back to Kyle, the redhead watching him with eyes that showed that he didn't like the subject.

The blonde exhaled and turned forward again, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out his worn leather wallet. "Well, I know I'm fuckin' starved," he grumbled while fumbling with the bills, counting just how much he even had.

"Hey man, I think Clyde's got us covered. Like, Taco Bell or something, for when we get to the place."

Kenny's eyes lit up and he looked at Stan with a toothy grin. "Really?"

Stan scoffed a laugh. "You know, you get excited for food way too fucking easily."

Kenny puckered his lips and moved to put his wallet back up, Kyle putting his head against the chilly window that radiated coolness, and he looked through the glass at the houses that passed. "This town seemed so big when we were little," he murmured and glanced down at his hands to tug at a loose string on his sleeve cuff.

"Yeah, I think it's just because now we're taller," Kenny spoke, Stan glancing to the blonde with a twitch of his eyebrow- the blonde nodding extremely thoughtfully to himself at this spoken thought.

"Oh damn, fucking conspiracy going on," the noirette muttered and laughed when Kenny turned to face him- no doubt having thought one up that just _needed_ to be shared.

"No, man, what if, the more we grow, the more the whole world fuckin' shrinks! You know..."

Kyle huffed to himself while watching the two before glancing back to his hands, Kenny's voice trailing off as he went into his own world. This was supposed to be a stress free trip, planned by his friends to get him better- _healthier_. He felt fine like this though. Sitting in bed held no conflict: you didn't have to talk to anyone, you didn't have to leave your room- you just had to wake up, and go back to sleep again, and dream.

That part bothered him though. He hated the dreams. What if he had dreamless sleeps? ...What if he never even had to wake up?

He stared at the freckles that lined his pale hands, the flesh stretching over obvious bones in thin layers.

You didn't have to make friends in your bedroom. All you had to do was detach yourself from your old ones.

l.l

Three hours of driving led the three to the vacation spot Clyde had set them up with after bugging money off of Token. It was a relatively long ride; full of Kenny's singing of the pop station, and Stan's conversations that were either good or just dropped.

"Butters is here!" Kenny exclaimed, pulling the door's handle a little too hard and shoving the door of the car door open, jumping out with wide arms. Stan scoffed and opened his own door, slipping the keys into his pocket before getting out himself and peeking his head back in at Kyle. "Getting out? Clyde's got tacos."

Kyle sighed and slowly opened his door, Stan's deep blue eyes watching him in a parent's care. Or more intimately: a lover's. "He also has Arby's."

Kyle slipped out of the car and closed the door softly behind him, leaving his suitcase inside.

"Awesome. You should go eat." He glanced back to Stan, the noirette closing his door and leaning atop the car to watch Kyle with a stern expression.

"You're going to eat with us, Kyle. You need it."

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned slightly to face the other man. "Just because my fat fuck 'friend' bought food, not even with his own money, I should eat? News flash, Stan: he's _not_ my friend I don't _have_ to, and I frankly don't _want_ to." The redhead stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and trudged for the hotel that awaited them all with open arms that Kyle felt were _too_ open.

"Kyle!" Stan scowled and a hand grasped his arm, the man huffing when he saw it was Wendy. The man threw his arm out towards Kyle's direction and Wendy lifted her other hand to pat his shoulder with a calm smile.

"He'll be okay. He's just had a lot to take in," she said, and Stan shook his head with a scoff. Wendy leaned up to kiss his cheek, and his tense shoulders softened some.

l.l

Kenny took another huge bite of his ham and white cheese sandwich, melting at the delicious flavoring and warm heat that it travelled into him, making his tastebuds tingle at all of the delicious goodness that came with Arby's.

A rough tug on his sleeve pulled his sandwich away from his mouth, making his teeth clack together in the empty space where his food should have been. He gave a low 'ow' and looked down, gaze finding Kyle's fiery one. He cleared his throat and raised a blonde eyebrow. "…Yeah?"

"Do you have the room keys?" Kyle didn't skip a beat with his question and Kenny raised both eyebrows, giving a slow nod.

"Why?"

Kyle ran a hand through his red locks in irritation and motioned. "Just, because."

Kenny gave another slow nod, Kyle watching him in wait. "Well can I have one?" he finally asked, Kenny giving a single shouldered shrug.

"Sure, but I need my hand."

Kyle squinted and Kenny tugged on his arm, Kyle's grip still clutching his parka's sleeve; Kenny had also been waiting. Kyle blinked a couple of times and quickly let go, Kenny watching him suspiciously while moving his sandwich to his mouth, clamping it shut between his teeth to hold it there before dusting his hand on his pants and reaching into his parka's pocket; other hand being occupied with a jumbo soda that could only be presumed as Mountain Dew.

Everyone knew Kenny was the keeper of keys: he was kind of the keeper of everything. He may be an ex stoner with a lot of problems in and from his past, but somehow, he had only killed the brain cells he didn't need, because in all actuality- he was pretty fucking smart. But then again, all druggies kind of are, past or not.

Kenny pulled out a single key and Kyle grabbed it, furrowing his eyebrows when his hand turned out empty.

Kenny held his hand up, key between his index and middle fingers. He raised an eyebrow, moving to place his drink in the crook of his arm and hold his sandwich in his other hand after taking a bite.

"What's up?" He asked sincerely, swallowing bite a bit harshly and clearing his throat; watching Kyle while holding the key up out of the smaller man's reach.

Kyle sighed deeply and moved a hand to rub his face. "I'm fucking tired. I… I yelled at Stan."

Kenny gave a grunt and nodded towards the entrance doors from where they stood in the fluorescent lit lobby. "Did you apologize?"

"Tch, no. And I kind of didn't even yell at him. Technically, we just argued."

The two watched each other with different emotions, and Kenny 'hmph'ed' after a moment.

"Look, I didn't come here to be antagonized, Kenny; I came to hang out."

Kenny pursed his lips at the irritated look on Kyle's face and he sighed heavily. "I know- we aren't trying to make you upset or uncomfortable; you know how Stan is, he's a go-getter!" Kenny grinned and Kyle huffed, because he knew that Kenny was right, and he crossed his arms and looked away.

"We just want you to be happy. He's just kind of… not patient," Kenny motioned and Kyle pressed his lips tight together, keeping his gaze away with a stubbornness he got from his mother. Kenny let his hand down to pat Kyle's shoulder, his smile faltering when wavering jade eyes looked back up to him.

"It's hard," Kyle finally uttered, Kenny nodding in understanding and keeping his hand on the redhead's boney shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"We'll make it, though," the bonde spoke softly, inspirationally.

Kyle exhaled deeply through his nose and Kenny smiled again, showing off his stained and crooked teeth for probably the twentieth time since they had embarked on the trip.

"Come on, I'll take you to the room." Kenny let go of Kyle's shoulder, the spot where his warm hand was, gradually gaining some unfitting coolness. Kyle watched Kenny turn on his heel, stuffing his sandwich back into his mouth and heading for the stairs, snatching an Arby's bag from where Clyde had them all beside him in a chair on the way. The redhead followed, sparing a quick glance back to the entry doors.

He hadn't meant to be rude to Stan; he just kept pushing and pushing and… He uncrossed his arms to fumble with his fingers. They were just trying to bring back old times, and here he was spitting at everybody. No wonder so many people were gone. Kenny's humming of Nine Inch Nails' _Hurt_ only added to the misery.

But if only Stan had been there- been there for him when Ike was still around, when he _needed_ him.

Kyle hugged his arms around himself while walking down the hall after Kenny. It hurt. It really fucking hurt. They were _dating_ for fuck's sake, but _no_ , leave it to Stan to ruin your eighteenth birthday and go and fuck the lead cheerleader. Well, now he was _engaged_ to the lead cheerleader.

"Here we are." Kenny stuck the key into the hole, Kyle looking him over briskly to find out where the sandwich had gone; in his coat pocket. Oh, how original, and gross.

Kenny turned the lock and swung the door open. "Room 119." His tone of voice was a little too enthusiastic, Kyle thought while they entered the room, and Kenny pointed to the two beds, both kings.

"Alright, I guess you pick one." Kenny said and shrugged, shuffled to the one closest to the window, plopping down on it and placing his drink on the floor beside his boots, putting the Arby's bag beside him on the bed; just for a place to sit.

"Where is everyone sleeping?"

Kenny looked to Kyle, the redhead standing near the open door uncomfortably. The blonde man bit his lip and looked to the ceiling of the room.

"Hmmm. Good question." He laughed at Kyle's faltering expression before waving to the redhead and leaning back on his hands. "I know, hold on," He sniggered and trained his eyes on the floor, staring at a loose carpet string while going into his memory box. "Stan and Wendy are in 112, Bebe and Clyde were debating on 118, but I don't know if they picked it or not, and Butters, Bradley, and Kevin are out searching. I mean, I have the keys, but they just haven't picked yet," he recalled, jiggling his parka's pocket and pulling out his sandwich when the flopping weight reminded him it was there.

Kyle nodded and moved to sit on the other bed after closing the door. He glanced at Kenny, the blonde finishing his sandwich and licking his fingers. His lips were a kisser's lips, thin, but full of experience, and his pale face held a few freckles from the sun. His fingers were slim and long, and Kenny slipped his ring finger from his lips with a little smack.

"What?"

Kyle blinked at the sudden voice and he looked to Kenny's eyes, the pale orbs already fixed on his jade, and it made his face flush, and he tore his gaze away from his _friend_ , and looked to the TV, which was actually a nice flatscreen.

Kenny's laugh made him glance over again in annoyance. "What?" Kyle's tone of voice was annoyed bitterness, and Kenny just shook his head, picking up his cup and taking a drink with his perfect smoker's lips.

"You're just awkward," he said smugly, and Kyle frowned deeply. Kenny widened his eyes, shaking his head profusely and lifting his hands to shake them, too, his cup rattling by the shaking ice.

"No, no, not _you._ Just like, you seem like you don't know what to do."

Kyle puffed and stepped to the other bed, closer to him, and he sat on the edge, putting his hands in his lap. He _didn't_ know what to do. It just wasn't the same anymore. Well it was, but not… It just…

He sighed deeply and Kenny swallowed, pursing his lips.

"Kyle," he said, a little too sternly.

Kyle looked to him with his tired jade eyes. "What?"

Kenny sat forward and grabbed the bag, holding it up. "I got you some."

Kyle rolled his eyes and puffed, "Gee, thanks. I'm not really hungry, though." He flinched back when Kenny stood, the blonde watching him for a second, looking _into_ his soul. The blonde huffed a smile and tossed the bag to him, the redhead slamming it into his stomach rather than succeeding in a proper catch.

"Good luck, whatever you decide to do. We'll all probably be in the lobby, though," Kenny said, and Kyle gave a little 'okay', watching Kenny give him a sincere smile. The blonde man pointed towards the bag, his smile turning into a wide grin. "That shit is fucking _amazing_ with 'Special Arby' sauce. We'll see you later, Kyle. And Stan'll be fine, just leave 'im be for a while."

"Alright," Kyle sighed and leaned in on himself, curling forward and putting a hand on the back of his neck to rub at his upper spinal cord. He didn't even plan on talking Stan again, anyway, today.

Kenny left the room, closing the door behind him in a not so quiet fashion, because his body just wasn't big enough to contain all of his emotions. Kyle glanced down at the bag in his lap nonchalantly, and chewed the inside of his cheek. He wasn't hungry... but he was. Life was conflicting.

He flopped back to lay down, moving the crumpled paper bag to sit beside him on the bed, and he looked up to the smooth, white ceiling. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes. It felt good to be in silence; the sun's dimming ray shining through the window and warming the right side of his cheek. His friends were too good of people. Too, too, good. They didn't need him.

He played with his jacket's zipper.

But he was already here, so maybe he should try. At least a little. Just a little. Until they stopped worrying- because he truly was fine.

He opened his eyes just enough to let the light shine into one, the dim ray staining his vision with a thick fog.

He was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This fic is being beta'd by an awesome buddy of mine who knows grammar like their peanut butter. It is awesome. Thanks, Buttons!


	2. Chapter Two

Stan took another drink of his soda and sat back in his seat.

"Wendy's asleep?" Kenny asked, and the noirette nodded, his blonde friend flapping his wallet open and closed in boredom.

"Hm. I think Clyde and Bebe went out to the pond," Kenny mumbled, looking to Stan through pale blue eyes that were growing heavy, demanding sleep.

Stan laughed and quirked a fine, dark eyebrow, "There's a pond here?"

"Apparently. I think some hot chick stays here, too," Kenny stated and Stan snorted, rolling his eyes.

"You'll fuck anything that walks."

Kenny sniggered at the lighthearted comment and lay back on his bed. He sighed deeply and turned his head to Stan. "Kyle's been in his room since we got here," he said calmly, looking at his friend with a tired smile.

Stan threw up his hands in agitation. "Well, it's not like he's really _wanting_ to come out anytime soon," he grumbled, Kenny watching him.

"I think we should just try harder. You know, not bring up the stuff he no doubt doesn't want to talk about?" The blonde gave Stan a crooked smile and the noirette huffed, dropping his head back against the wall.

"He's just as stubborn as always. Maybe we should check on him," he offered and Kenny laughed, quickly sitting up.

"Nah, dude, calm down; he's perfectly fine alone." He motioned towards the door. "Just go to bed with Wendy- it's late, and no girl likes waking up alone; trust me."

Stan rolled his eyes at his friend's words and wink, and he grumbled a simple, "Like you would know," but stood from the chair anyway, leaning back to crack his back.

"Alright," he huffed again. "I'm going."

Kenny gave a slow nod, watching Stan in interest while the noirette headed for the door with the most hesitance the blonde had ever seen from him. The blonde raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "You need to get over him, man. You're the one who left."

Stan glanced back briefly, grimacing at the sage look on Kenny's face before exiting the room, the door quietly closing after him. Kenny breathed deeply and reached a hand up to scratch his head.

Kyle didn't need anyone checking on him, but he still wasn't comfortable about Kyle having a room all to himself in this place. Kenny stood from the bed and made his way to the door, standing in front of it for a moment to wait. Stan and Wendy were in 112- that meant that he had to wait for Stan to head four rooms away. He sighed heavily and opened the door after a very long moment, peeking down the empty hallway, before heading for room 119 when he deemed it safe. It was late, and he figured the video games Kevin and Bradley brought had probably knocked them out after hours of holing up in their room. Bebe and Clyde were awake, either at the pond or in their room: drinking or fucking.

Kenny hummed while knocking on Kyle's door.

Actually, Bebe was pregnant now, so maybe they actually weren't doing much. Having fucked Bebe once had somehow gotten Kenny the honorary Keep-A-Secret friend award, because as far as he knew, he was the only one she had told.

The door went unanswered, and the blonde grabbed the doorknob, turning the unlocked brass and opening the door to head inside, eyebrows brought together in concern while he glanced around the dark room. Kyle's small form lay curled on the bed closest to the window, green hoody bunched up around him and moving slowly in deep, sleeping breaths.

Kenny sighed.

Good, alive and asleep.

He hated to admit it, but ever since Stan had moved on from Kyle, he and the redhead hadn't seen each other much. At all. His job at the mechanic shop out of town had him working a lot, and he just didn't have time for people anymore. That was a lie. The blonde groaned inwardly at his thoughts and he made his way to the Arby's bag that sat on the foot of the bed by Kyle. Looking inside, Kenny found a half-eaten sandwich and an empty sauce packet. He grinned and looked back to Kyle's sleeping form, the redhead's back to him with the moon shining small light in through the window, no doubt lighting up Kyle's front in a good view of purity.

Kenny put the bag on the floor, the sound of the paper crumpling making Kyle's form twitch and the blonde wince. He waited until Kyle's body calmed before heading to his Mountain Dew after spotting it. "That's where you went, you fucker," he mumbled to himself while bending over to pick it up from where he had left it on the floor, blinking and shaking the cup at its light weight.

Awe, Kyle, you beautiful little thing.

He laughed to himself in airy breaths and glanced over to Kyle from where he stood at the foot of the bed, noting that Kyle's shoes were still on. Placing his almost empty cup back onto the floor, Kenny sat on the edge of the bed to grab Kyle's slender left leg around the ankle, using his other hand to grab the black sneaker and start edging it off. Kyle didn't wake, and Kenny managed to get both of the shoes off; only a deep sigh from Kyle. The blonde put the shoes on the floor beside the cup and stood from the bed.

He decided that he couldn't let Kyle sleep like this, so he stepped quietly to the side of the bed and slipped an arm under Kyle's upper thighs, hissing quietly at himself in his battle to not wake the small man, while lifting the redhead's body up just a tad to grab the blanket from under him. He brought his other hand to the blanket and grabbed it, slipping it out from under Kyle and pulling it down to the foot of the bed. Then he slipped his arm from Kyle's legs and brought both hands to the blanket to lift it up, and he pulled it over Kyle, draping it over his form to his shoulders, and tucking him in snug.

The blonde man huffed and rubbed his nose.

Perfect. Asleep and covered up.

He closed his tired eyes to rub them with his knuckles, and his heart almost popped from his chest when he opened his eyes to jade ones that stared right at him.

Kenny managed to give a light chuckle. "Hi, Kyle."

Kyle groaned quietly and moved a hand up to rub at his face, dropping it back to his side and swallowing, and he looked back to Kenny with heavy eyes. "What are you doing?" His voice was weak from sleep, and Kenny rubbed his neck.

"I uh, was just checking on you." He chuckled nervously and Kyle rolled onto his back tiredly, rubbing his drowsy eyes and smacking his lips before glancing back to Kenny.

He narrowed his eyes and huffed, "You never gave me the key."

Kenny chuckled with another rub against his neck. "Yeah, I kinda forgot." Forgot to, or didn't want to, they both summed up to the same thing in the end. Kenny moved to perch on the edge of the bed again, since he had already been caught.

Back in high school, Kenny, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman, would all hang out at a secret spot near Stark's Pond and drink beer that Kenny had stolen from his dad. It was nice. Stan and Kenny had a swimming contest once, to see who could swim the farthest in the thinly frozen over waters, while Kyle and Cartman kept record; Cartman really just eating all the marshmallows while Kyle did the real work.

Back then, though, Kyle was healthy. His skin had a light tan to it, and his hair was vibrant. Looking at Kyle now though, Kenny could see that his skin was a sick pasty color, and his hair looked to be in some type of damaged state: a darker color than its usual one, and not in any good way.

"You didn't lock your door by the way," Kenny stated, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

"It's a fucking hotel, not a morgue. Jeez," he grumbled, and Kenny dismissed him, reaching into his pocket to pull out the key. Kyle held out his hand and took the silver, closing his fingers around it this time. He lay his fist clasped with the key over his chest and exhaled heavily.

Kenny watched the redhead for a moment, the way his green eyes showed only a thick haze of thought. He cleared his throat: it was time for a subject change.

"I see you finished my drink," he stated and grinned, Kyle's dry laugh sounding like music even in its downed state.

"I tried to find you but you didn't say what room you'd be staying in."

"Awe, Kyle, I'm in 116. Kevin and Bradley are in 110, and Butters picked 117. Just so you know where all of us are. But mine is the most important," he smiled, smug.

Kyle gave a slow nod. He glanced to Kenny from where his eyes were trained on a wall. "What time is it?"

"It is…" Kenny pulled out his phone to look at the time, "1:37 a.m."

Kyle groaned and looked to the dark window, "That late, huh?"

Kenny gave him a meek smile, "Ah, it's fine. Just go back to sleep. I'll head back to my own room- remember where I am?" He pointed at Kyle and the redhead gave a slow nod.

"116." He moved to sit up, the blanket falling from his shoulder, and he scoot back on the bed to press his lower back into the pillows. He crossed his thin legs under the blanket and looked at the blonde man beside him.

"We should all go somewhere in the morning," he murmured.

Kenny huffed and gave a lighter, more honest smile, "Yeah, that'd be great, Kyle." He watched Kyle's face, the redhead's expression showing something besides its now common sadness. Kyle gave a small smile, mouth wrinkling at the corners in a somewhat calming manner.

"I thought so. I really haven't seen anyone in a long time," the redhead said, moving a hand to play with the blanket that pooled at his waist. Kenny smiled and stood from the bed, reaching out to pat his friend's mass of red curls.

"Yeah, we'll see about it. That's why we're here," his words smiled, and Kyle put his arms around himself out of awkwardness, not too sure on what to really do at the moment. Even after around seventeen years of knowing his friends, he still felt odd with them. When were their presences supposed to feel normal?

He flinched back and peeked at Kenny through a half lidded eye, scrunching his nose at the contact of a finger poking him in the side of his head. "Hm?"

"You should get outa those clothes. Jeans ain't very comfy, eh?" Kenny pointed at him with a grin and Kyle looked down at himself in annoyance, pulling at his hoodie to get a better look at it.

He gave a grunt of a response and Kenny sniggered while heading to the door, Kyle watching him leave and waiting a moment before slipping out of the blanket and off of the bed.

He lazily walked to the door after finding the will to get up, rubbing at his eyes again before opening it; peeking out just in time to see Kenny enter room 116.

A clatter sounded from a room and he furrowed his brows. Who stayed where again? Stan was in 112… He rubbed his forehead and headed down the hallway to the stairs before ultimately freezing. _Where are my shoes?_ He inwardly groaned and glanced back to his room, that was just a little ways from the stairs. Did he really want to go back and get them? He continued his descent of the stairs, heading past the empty front desk and trudging for the entry doors that he assumed would be kind enough to let him back in.

In a pretty decent sized parking lot with quite a few cars, he found the black Camaro Stan just _had_ to buy last year.

Kyle mumbled small things to himself in his sleepy state, pulling a back car door open and leaning in to grab his suitcase's zipper. His thin fingers slid the metal over its choppy trail and he breathed deeply while moving to pull the case open and grab a handful of clothes; perched on the edge of the backseat and put the ball of clothing on his lap. Button up: nope. He tossed the white dress shirt back into the suitcase. Blue jeans: nope-

A voice sounded near him and he jumped, heart jolting.

"What the _hell_?" Kyle exclaimed and looked to his side, gaze raking up to a tall man who stood in the midst of the darkness, shadows casting over his face and body, sending chills down Kyle's spine. The redhead swallowed hard and the tall man lowered slightly, face coming into view and revealing a pale complexion with dark hair- messy and scattered like he had just gotten out of bed. The dark bags under his eyes said otherwise about sleeping.

Kyle clutched his clothes tight in his lap until he could feel the blood in his fingers running cold. The man smiled and Kyle's breathing caught, throat only open enough for shallow breaths to slip in at that big, crooked smile.

"Is this your car?" The man's voice was unnatural, there was just something about it that made Kyle cringe into the backseat. He swallowed roughly. What kind of question is that?

"N-no. It's a friend's," the young adult spoke, voice coming out weak and strained. He wouldn't want to give Stan's name, but he wasn't necessarily wanting to lie at the moment, either. With his luck, he'd just get stolen with the car and declared a runaway if he said it was his. But what about if it wasn't?

The man knelt down, sliding his fingers along the ground's pavement and coming in contact with a fallen pair of green plaid boxers. _Kyle's_ green plaid boxers. Kyle grit his teeth while watching as his fallen clothing was lifted up, hanging outstretched to him. He didn't know what was worse, having to reach out to the fucker and grab the clothing, or letting him keep it.

The young adult let go of his clothes and reached out, quickly going to snatch the wear and grimacing when the man's hold on them tightened. He looked up into the man's dark eyes of amusement and felt his gut drop. This freak was blocking his way of getting out. Crawling to the other door would leave his bottom half vulnerable and up for grabs.

The man's smile suddenly died down and the grip on Kyle's clothes disappeared, the redhead pulling the clothing to himself at the lack of contact. He watched as the man turned, holding his breath in his chest so hard it hurt, while the man walked away from the car with the darkness of the night slowly gathering after him until it swallowed him whole, leaving only a silhouette trailing away. Kyle exhaled and immediately started taking deep breaths, eyes falling to the clothes he held in his lap.

_Fuck it_. He peered out of the car at the pavement, snatching up the other clothes he must had dropped earlier in his startled state. Sweeping up the clothes into shaky hands, Kyle slipped off of the back seat and onto rubbery legs, reaching back and slamming the door shut a little too hard, before taking off running back to the hotel's doors, clothes clutched tight to his chest because he needed something to hold onto.

He threw the glass doors open, running to the stairs and up them like you run up basement stairs at night. Half way down the hallway, he could see room 117's light shut off from the door's small bottom gap. He ran to the room, rapping his jutting knuckles against the wood in frantic beats. He chewed his lip, eyes darting down both sides of the hallway. He whined to himself and knocked on the door again.

This was Butters's room, right? The least the blonde fuck could do is open his good fucking eye and get out of bed to open the damn door. He had just turned his light off, right?

Kyle knocked on the door again and still got no response. If he died because this immature shit, he would literally kill someone.

"Fuck!" he grimaced and looked down the empty hall again before settling his gaze on room 119. He breathed deeply and headed to the room, opening the unlocked door and heading inside to flip on the light. There was no way in Hell he was sleeping with that fucking bulb off tonight.

He dropped the clothes in front of himself on the floor and reached a hand behind him to lock the door with a heavy exhale. His jade eyes scanned the empty room of light and he slowly walked to one of the beds, sitting on the edge and leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

It took a good few moments for him to regain himself, wary eyes staring at the shadowed floor beneath him. He sighed through his nose and dropped an arm to the side of his legs, hooking a finger in his blue bootie and slipping it off before reaching to his other foot to do the same with his green.

Asshole Butters. Can he ever do anything right? Well, let that be rephrased, because there was the time when Butters had helped Kyle out when his old car had broken down a couple months ago. Did he still have the car? No; Sheila and Gerald had him get rid of it for a new one, but that day just hadn't come yet.

Kyle moved his socks to the side on the floor. Maybe he should text his mom about the guy in the parking lot. It's not really one of those things you keep to yourself; a pantie thief of all things. But it's not really one of those things you necessarily tell, do you?

He scooted back on the bed and pulled his feet up, wrapping his arms around his legs with a long exhale. Why was he here? A dog. A dog would make him happy.

He slipped his arms from his legs and moved to sit cross legged. La Rosa Hotel: the hotel of supposed dreams and happiness. Maybe he just wasn't in the right room.


	3. Chapter Three

Kenny yawned into his hand while walking out of the bathroom. Last night had been full of a chilly bedroom and some out-of-sorts dream that he couldn't remember even a flash of. He headed for the bed, flopping onto it, and grabbed at the grey shirt he set aside yesterday. He brought it to himself and pulled it open with a deep morning sigh and slipped his arms and head in, pulling it down his nude torso and waist and letting the bottom pool at his lap, because the shirt was a size too big. He sniffed and cleared his throat, patting his pants pockets. Phone: check. Cigarettes: check.

"Alrighty then… Biscuits..." He stifled another yawn and scratched his thick blonde head of hair, standing from the bed and going to head for the door. He pulled it open with a brief swipe of the back of his hand over his teary morning eyes.

"Butters, Kevin, wake up!" He banged on the doors while heading down the hallway. He had heard once that he had a sexy morning voice, so he just thought that he should share it. Obnoxiously. And sexily. If obnoxious was sexy.

"Uh, I'm up, I'm up Ken." Butters stepped out of his room in some holed blue jeans and a pastel pink shirt. No one could pull of that cute little kid look like Butters, without a pedo vibe. He just did it in an adult way that had everyone looking and saying "damn, what a cutie". Even Kenny, but it wasn't really rare, because Kenny thought Butters even being alive was cute.

"Get 'ur ass in gear, Butt, because we've got a good day ahead of us- Clyde told me they got free breakfast," Kenny whispered the last part in Butters' ear, and the sultry morning groan of it made the smaller blonde giggle.

"Well, okay, if you say so." Butters patted his thighs and Kenny grinned, because he didn't want to eat alone, and because Butters would eat until Kenny stopped.

l.l

The day had gone by in a blur.

Everyone was either drinking or laughing, while Kevin and Bradley roleplayed with each other on their phones, slipping in time for a drink every now and then, until they had snuck off to their room and finally made a breakthrough into something rather... disturbing.

Kyle stood against the hallway's wall, arms crossed while he watched Bradley knock on his own room's door.

There was no answer, and he looked back to Kyle. "See? It's fucking soundproof," the blonde stated, turning to lean against the doorframe.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. It really, really was. But no one liked giving the nerds the satisfaction that they discovered something 'cool'.

"How'd you come across this again?" the redhead asked and Bradley gave a shrug, nodding towards the door. "We just couldn't hear anything. Like, at all." The blonde pulled out his phone to text Kevin, and the noirette opened the door from the inside a moment later. He peeked out.

Kyle gave a slow nod before shaking his head. "Why the hell would they make soundproof hotel rooms?" his words were flat, and Kevin stepped out of the room to join Kyle and Bradley.

"Sleeping complaints? You know you'd think of it if you were running your own hotel," Bradley pointed and Kyle mentally agreed.

"It's a safety hazard, though," he stated, glancing to Kevin when he noticed the noirette typing on his phone. Bradley frowned when the attention was taken from him and he followed Kyle's gaze. Kyle sighed and went to rub his temples. He had woken up with a headache, and his stomach felt ill. There was also a nightmare that had taken place inside room 119, but he couldn't remember the slightest of a detail. "What are you doing?" he whined, and Kevin peeked from his phone to the redhead.

"I'm just on Wikipedia. Are you going with us to the pond? I heard Kenny say something about you going... but you didn't... and we are..." he drawled and Kyle huffed, slipping his hands into his coat pockets; too drained to even answer the question. Kevin watched Kyle for a small moment with his dark eyes before looking to Bradley. The blonde 'hm'ed' and Kevin motioned, locking his phone and putting it away.

"You should take Kyle to get some medicine. He looks kind of pale," Kevin gave a small flutter of his lashes- something no one had ever seen him openly do in public.

"I can hear you," Kyle grumbled, eyes closed and head against the wall behind him. Bradley was already sucked into those eyes, though, and he sighed but pushed off of the wall, heading to Kyle's side with a quiet 'come on'.

Kyle was against the idea of getting drunk, but he _had_ kind of promised to go. Well, not really promised, but he had kind of come up with the idea. The red-haired adult let Bradley guide him away. Wendy always carried Ibuprofen in her purse, so they would probably be on their way to the bitch, and Kyle would most likely be sucked into the life of the party when the pills kicked in. _Forced_ into it, was more like it.

Kevin let his boyfriend take Kyle away and puffed, falling back against 110's door. He'd rather go and get drunk like the rest of his 'friends' outside, but Wikipedia and boredom had claimed him, so the young adult pulled his phone back out of his pocket, unlocking the screen and sliding open the internet tab.

La Rosa Hotel; made in 1906, it housed the most famous celebrities even through the Depression. Named after the architect's late wife Rosa, it was famed for its ideal auras of love and sincerity.

Kevin re-entered the room, heading to the bed of his choice and flopping onto it to lay on his stomach and look at the webpage. He decided to scroll past the hotel's origins and reception, and furrowed his eyebrows and clicked the box to open 'Murders and Conspiracies'. What the hell was that about?

Kevin swallowed and scrolled, skimming the words that could be fake. But Wikipedia was more factual than fictional, for the most part.

1959 was the year forty bodies were discovered in hotel La Rosa, discovered by the police when a live-in complained of a smell and something odd going on with one of the visitors. Down came some walls and a thorough search of the whole property led to the discovery of forty gruesome murder victims- fresh and long decayed, varying. Jack Trueman, a man staying at the province, was arrested for the murders and received the death penalty. La Rosa Hotel has remained open since, and no details of the massacre have been released or documented otherwise.

Kevin nibbled his bottom lip. There weren't any details to how Jack Trueman was caught, or even put under police suspicion, besides what the visitors claimed. It was unnerving, fifty three years ago or not. How did he even get the bodies into the walls in the first place? That must be where the conspiracy comes in.

A creak sounded and Kevin locked his phone and put it on the bed. He glanced around the room with his naturally narrowed eyes and blinked and tilted his head, squinting at the odd discoloration that stained a crevice between the wall and floor.

l.l

Bebe sat on the car's hood with her chin on her hand, brown eyes looking around for _something_ to peak her interest. Getting drunk with people was fun. _Watching_ them get drunk while you drink a bottle of water? Boring as shit. She huffed and looked to Stan and Wendy, the two sitting by the pond with beers and talking in a calm manner. Stan was hot. So much so, that Bebe wondered just how Wendy got a hold of him. Bebe obviously was the more curvy out of the two, and she had a good breast size, too.

The blonde watched the way Stan's mouth curved into a soft smile, and she glanced to Clyde from where the man laughed with Bradley while waving a beer. She pouted to herself, scrunching her nose. Clyde was chunky. The slight stubble under his chin and the way his knuckles were sucked into chubby dimples was unattractive, and the woman exhaled. Going to the same college wouldn't be much different. They'd see each other in classes, hang out at parties and bars, and fuck in their rooms. And Clyde would gain weight. A lot. Bebe could see the image and she bit her red bottom lip. Her future was getting sucked into Clyde's stomach. Clyde's kid was in hers. She whined and rubbed her face.

Being a mom didn't sound satisfying. Being pregnant in college sounded like Hell. No one would talk to her. She'd be called ' _fat_ '. She grimaced and groaned, dropping her hand into her lap and looking at the party in front of her. Butters stood by a tree, messing with his fake eye. Bebe snorted. That made her feel better.

Her eyes strayed and found Kenny, the blonde man saying something while holding two different beers, raising one at a time while talking to Kyle. Bebe would kill to be having that hick's baby. Blonde, handsome, bright blue eyed with a hot body... She could just melt. Or get an abortion. That'd help the situation. Nothing was really tying her to Clyde because of his lack of knowledge of the pregnancy, and he wouldn't really care if Bebe aborted it. Because he wouldn't know.

She hopped off of the car, and made her way to Wendy and Stan. She walked through Kenny and Kyle to get there, and she just barely caught an earful of what they were talking about.

"Yeah, that's what they said," Kyle stated, taking a swig of his chosen beer. Kenny knitted his eyebrows.

"Hm... That's kind of like... really far fetched," he stated, and Kyle rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"I didn't say you had to believe me, I didn't find it out," the redhead puffed.

Kenny just didn't understand. The rooms are _soundproof_ for fuck's sake. The least he could do was make a conspiracy around it rather than to just make Kyle sound crazy.

"But I am telling you Ken, they even showed me," Kyle said, motioning his bottle for emphasis.

"Kevin and Bradley?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah, Kevin and Bradley. Do you want me to show you?"

Kenny twisted his lips. Kyle looked serious, and Kyle got scary when he was adamant and serious. Kenny took a long swig of his beer and smacked his lips together. "Alright, let's go," he grinned, tired, buzzed eyes making him look sort of high. Maybe he fucking was.

Kyle shrugged and pointed to Stan. "Do you want him to come too?" he asked, looking over the noirette who sat beside the chattering Wendy and Bebe. He was probably dying there, stuck with them.

Kenny dropped his bottle onto the snow ground and opened his arms, making his way to Stan, "Stanley! :-D"

Stan looked at Kenny with the most murderous gaze the blonde had ever seen. Except for Red, her eyes were pretty spot on with daggers. Kyle watched Kenny talk to Stan, the blonde pulling the dying noirette up from the ground and laughing with him while bringing him back to the spot. Stan's eyes found Kyle, and the noirette waved, and Kyle waved back.

At least he looked better than when they had first arrived, Stan thought while looking at the redhead's fairly normal expression.

"Kenny wants me to show you guys something- it's really kind of stupid," the young adult stated with a small motion towards the hotel, Stan giving a careless shrug.

"Let's go."

Kyle put his hands in his pockets. Two out of three were interested in heading back into that building. He exhaled and nodded towards the building that showed in the distance, walking to it. Stan looked at Kenny.

"How's he been?" he asked, the blonde glancing to his friend from where he walked after Kyle.

He shrugged, "Fine, I guess. How are you and Wendy?"

Stan breathed deeply. Kenny's words made it sound like he was reminding him of who he was with. It felt kind of insulting.

"Fine," he replied and rolled his shoulders. Kenny watched Stan's face for a moment before looking back ahead- biting back a bitter smirk. Oh, the irony of it all: Stan was tired of Kyle's problems and left for Wendy. Now he was wanting to insert himself in all of Kyle's problems and 'didn't have time' for Wendy.

Kenny put his hands in his parka's pockets and slipped past Stan into the hotel when the noirette held the glass open, and he headed in after him.

Kyle scratched his red curls with boney fingers while heading up the stairs, eyes straying to a dark smudge on a step. Stay focused. The redhead headed for room 119, pulling his key from his pocket to unlock the door. He opened it and looked back to Stan and Kenny, to fain waiting on them, but he just didn't want to go in alone. His stomach felt a little flutter, probably from his dream, and just didn't feel comfortable going in alone.

"So, one of us in and one out?" Kenny asked, and Kyle gave a small shrug while going to lean against the open doorframe.

"Yeah, I guess." He reached up to rub his neck. He pointed into the room with his thumb at an idea. "I'll wait here, and you guys can go inside and try to listen. Unless one of you want to stay with me." He shrugged to seem somewhat cool with the situation, tired eyes of grey watching the two men. If he could get out of going into that bedroom, he would do it.

Kenny raised his hand faster than Stan could open his mouth, and the noirette huffed at the grin that plastered itself onto Kenny's face. Kyle looked between the two of them and huffed a small smile.

"Sure Ken. We'll text you when we're done knocking- if you don't answer," he said to Stan and the man nodded with a roll of his eyes, moving to enter the room. Kyle pushed off of the doorframe and moved to stand by Kenny, Stan's eyes watching the two for a brief moment before he closed the door. Kyle felt a hell of a lot safer and secure in the hallway, where he could run anywhere if he needed to. Was that called being claustrophobic?

A weight was placed on Kyle's head and his wide jade eyes looked to Kenny. He exhaled, and the blonde laughed. "You'll be fine, dude, it's alright."

Kyle smacked his hand away. "That's easy for you to say," he grumbled and started knocking on the door. Kenny gave Kyle an odd look at the comment but decided to keep quiet and lean on the wall, opting to look at the hallway's doors while waiting for any response to the knock. He looked at Kyle at the silence, and Kyle knocked again like he was already accustomed to it. Kyle breathed deeply and looked to Kenny, the blonde taking in the sight of that sea of freckles on the latter's face.

"He can't hear us?" Kenny asked and Kyle shook his head, motioning to the blonde.

"Do you wanna text him?" he asked, Kenny raising an eyebrow.

"Don't you have a phone?"

Kyle sighed deeply and crossed his arms, "I don't have his number."

Kenny laughed at his friend and reached into his pocket to pull out his own phone. "Why not?"

"Because I had to factory reset my phone a couple days ago and didn't get it after. I only have like, my mom's." Kyle put his head against the door while Kenny dialed Stan's number. He had never found a need to actually name the contacts, because that's just how good his memory of numbers was. He could remember who every phone number went to, friend, family, or stranger. He texted the man inside the room to come out and nudged Kyle to get him off of the door, the redhead moving away and looking to the door when it opened. Stan pointed towards the two.

"You guys _did_ make some sounds, right?"

Kyle nodded and Kenny pointed to him, "He knocked."

Stan looked back into the room, disregarding just what the blonde was trying to say.

"That's fucking weird."

"Isn't it?" Kenny gasped and Kyle huffed a small laugh at the blonde's high pitched voice and hand over his mouth like a schoolgirl.

Stan went to push the man's face away. "Well, what now?" he grumbled and looked to the two while Kenny shook his head to get his hair fluffed. Kenny shrugged and looked at Kyle.

"Yeah, it's cool but it's not like, something fun we can mess with," he stated and Kyle scoffed with narrowed eyes.

"Guys, it's _illegal_."

Stan and Kenny both shrugged unanimously and Kyle shook his head while sucking his teeth. Fucking idiots. There was a reason he had factory reset his phone.

"Alright, well then what? Call the police? Wait. ...The guy at the front desk. Manager." Kyle pointed at his friends for no reason and turned to start walking down the hall, Kenny and Stan looking at one another before quickly following after.

"Kyle, we probably shouldn't get the police involved!" Kenny called and Stan flashed the blonde a look, the man giving a nervous smile and silent 'sorry'.

Kyle slammed into someone and the force sent him down, the thin man giving an 'ow' when his butt hit the floor. He puffed and put his hands on the floor to push himself back up, but a hand reached out and he took it for help. His heart fluttered at how quickly he was hoisted up, and he glanced to the man who helped him, after he gained his balance. He looked at the man and offered a little smile in thanks.

"Thank y..." Dark eyes met his jade, dark eyes that didn't seem to know sleep- the dark eyes of the man who had grabbed his boxers, and Kyle recoiled and jerked his hand away. "Dude, let go of me," he spoke quickly while tugging on his hand, but the man wouldn't let go. The filth that that hand probably held.

Stan and Kenny made their way over and Stan went to nudge the man's shoulder. "Let him go, man." He didn't particularly know what was going on, but the man looked weird, and Kyle didn't seem to like him. Who would? Those eyes were outlined in dark shadows and he looked pretty lethargic. Kind of like a freak from a movie, but in real life. The man let go of Kyle's hand and the redhead fell back against Kenny's torso while quickly rubbing his hand against his pants.

"Dude, the _fuck_ is your problem?" the redhead spat and the man's eyes slid from Stan to Kyle at the words.

"What do you mean?" The voice that came out of the man was disturbing. It just didn't sound right. Stan looked at Kyle.

"Do you know him?" he asked, and Kenny raised his eyebrows. That question hadn't even came to mind but now that it was out in the open, he was curious. _Did_ Kyle know him?

"Fuck no! He tried tried to steal my boxers last night!" Kyle cried and cringed at the memory. Stan stared at Kyle for a minute before looking back to the black haired man, the man raising a thin hand and waving his fingers in greeting.

Stan scowled. "Stay away from him or I'll beat you into a fucking vegetable, got it?" He pointed a stern finger at the man, who simply put his hand back to his side.

"I haven't done anything," he replied, words rolling off of his tongue in a slur through a tight jaw, voice somehow seeming intimidating.

Kyle scoffed, "You were trying to-"

"Hand your clothing back to you." The man and Kyle met gazes, Kyle's fiery and the man's calm.

Kenny put an arm in front of Stan, keeping the noirette away from the thinner man; other arm holding Kyle to him to keep _him_ from doing anything. If Kyle was still anything like he was back in early high school, he'd have to keep him within arm's length at a moment like this.

"Let him go Stan, he won't touch him." Kenny watched Stan and the noirette grit his teeth before backing up.

"And what if he fucking does?" he asked Kenny while watching the black haired man who still stood before them.

"I'll do worse."

Stan huffed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching as the man finally started to descend down the hallway and into the elevator opposite the stairs. It was true. Stan had heard that Kenny almost killed someone in East Park a while back. He still didn't know the details, but he knew that Kenny was 100 percent on his way to prison until some technicality got him out scotch free.

Stan looked at Kyle, the redhead moving out of Kenny's hold. "You didn't tell us you had a stalker?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and dusted himself bitterly. "Because he wasn't stalking me," he grumbled. Kenny raised an eyebrow while watching Kyle. "You alright?"

The redhead looked at him through his fiery eyes and he huffed, crossing his arms tight around himself, "I guess so."

"...We can call this whole thing off," Kenny stated, Stan flashing him a mad glare at the idea of stopping this 'therapy', but Kenny disregarded him, watching Kyle and waiting for a response.

Kyle shook his head and exhaled deeply to calm himself. "No, it's fine, it really is."

Kenny watched him for a bit before grinning and going to pat his head of curls. "Alright, Kyle, if you insist," he drawled, the readhead rolling his eyes again and pushing the blonde away, Stan exhaling at the news of them staying.

l.l

Bradley opened 110's door, entering with Butters behind him, the shorter blonde looking around the room curiously. "Well gee, Bradley, you sure made this place look like home," he stated while looking at the game discs and DVDs splayed about the place, empty chip bags and a chess set tossed onto a table. Bradley simply nodded while going to sit on his bed. He looked over to where Kevin lay on his own, face down in his pillow with a blanket over his bottom half. He always looked cute when he was asleep.

"Kevin's asleep," Bradley stated and pursed his lips, Butters looking over with a pout.

"Oh, really? Well, that's not really gonna help us much if we wanna play that game," the blonde grumbled and Bradley huffed.

"Ain't that right." He pointed to the TV. "Turn on the flat screen, will ya? I'll get the weed."

Butters blushed at the idea of getting high, but went to turn on the TV anyway, sparing a quick glance to Kevin. Man did he look peaceful.


	4. Chapter Four

Bebe smacked her red lips while looking into the bathroom mirror, cheeks already a perfect pink from her drunken flush. Wendy sat on the toilet seat's lid, chin on her hand. She huffed.

"This hotel is shit," she grumbled, and Bebe raised a fine eyebrow at the sudden words, looking away from the mirror to Wendy, the noirette's brown eyes looking at her. Bebe laughed.

"What's wrong?" she asked and turned to face her 'friend'.

Wendy huffed again and sat back against the toilet. She crossed her legs and tossed up a hand. "Nothing, it's just... Stan's spent a total of like, six hours with me at this hotel."

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, Wendy, are you serious? Like, me and Clyde have only had sex _once_ on this trip in total. Isn't _that_ bad?"

Wendy snorted and shook her head. Again about Bebe.

She sighed heavily and stood from the toilet. She waved off her friend while heading for the bathroom door. "I'm just going to go get another beer, goodnight." She looked back to her friend, the blonde giving a careless 'uh huh' while looking back into the mirror. Get ready for some fun tonight Clyde, want it or not. Oh, who was she kidding, of course he would want it.

Wendy headed to her room and peeked inside. No Stan. Was he with someone? He and Clyde were hanging out earlier, and if he wasn't with Clyde, he was probably with Kenny. She sighed again and went to sit on her and Stan's bed. She flopped onto her back and pat her pocket for her phone, slipping her fingers in and sliding the blue device out. Unlocking it, she scrolled for Stan's number and clicked into texting.

l.l

Stan walked alongside Kyle, outside in the chilly air. It took a lot of persuading to get Kenny to let him take Kyle out. Kenny had been left back in the hotel building, and Stan was pretty sure he was hanging out with that girl in room 111- Carla, that was her name. That was really the only thing that could really get that freak off of Kenny's mind; getting laid. Walking with Stan had already got the freak off of Kyle's.

Kyle fidgeted with his fingers, hands in his jacket pockets and clammy. It had been incredibly long since he and Stan had been alone. He wasn't too particularly happy, but he wasn't mad. He was just upset.

He looked at Stan and when his eyes met those blue that stared right back at him, he averted his gaze again. His face burned and the heat was quick to spread to the rest of his body, making him nervous and upset, which only made him more hot. He cursed silently to himself.

"So..." Stan sounded and Kyle glanced back at him.

"...Yeah?"

Stan bit his tongue at the sight of those jade eyes looking at him. He cleared his throat. "Are you having fun?"

Kyle gave a short laugh, bitter. "No."

Stan nodded and silently exhaled. Bad choice of topic.

"But it's nice," Kyle spoke again, and Stan perked up, looking to the redhead.

"Yeah?" His response came a little too quick and Kyle gave another short-lived laugh.

"Yeah."

The two walked in silence for about another couple of minutes, Stan in a deep thought about the man with the bright red hair and how he had let him go, and Kyle in a thought about how unlucky he was that he had actually lost two people within the same year.

"I still like you." Stan's words echoed in the rows of trees around them and Kyle's face and ears burned. He looked back to Stan.

"...What?" Speaking hurt, and the word struggled to come out. The immense heat coming off of Kyle swallowed his eyes in a hot, teary filter, and he pulled his pocketed hands closer to him. "What?" he asked again, staring at Stan through the heat that only seemed to grow. It was... embarrassing, somehow.

"I like you," Stan repeated his words and swallowed hard, throat dry in the night's cold breath. "A lot," he choked out, watching Kyle for any sign or hint that he still liked him back. All he got from those eyes though, was something that he just couldn't quite distinguish. He did know that Kyle didn't look like he was in any mood to touch him, so he did the action instead, and reached out a hand to touch the redhead's cheek.

Kyle flinched away from the touch and Stan swallowed again, lowering his hand back to his side. The two stood like that for a moment, staring into one another's eyes until a single ring sounded and Stan cleared his throat, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

Wendy: _Where are you?_

"We should get back," Kyle stated, Stan's gaze snapping back to him from his phone's illumination.

Kyle looked at Stan for a second before turning and setting his walk back for the hotel. Stan grit his teeth and looked back at the text. He locked his phone and stuck it back into his pocket, heading after Kyle, and barely hearing the crackle of nature being stepped on after them.

l.l

Butters sat against the cracking wall, knees brought to his chest and chin resting on them. His bright blue eye watched Bradley while he rearranged things near the TV for no apparent reason. The young man slipped his gaze to Kevin's sleeping form, silently judging the designs on the blanket that he was encased in.

"Butters."

Butters changed his gaze back to Bradley, quirking a brow. "Y-yeah Bradley?" He watched as the man huffed and turned to face the bottle blonde, crossing his arms.

"What do you think about mine and Kevin's relationship?" The way the question rolled out of his mouth made Butters snigger, slipping his knees out from under him to straighten his legs on the bed and sit back.

"Well, I think Henrietta isn't too particularly keen on you dating an Asian."

"I meant our _friendship,_ dimwit."

Butters flushed and twisted his lips at the insult, but ultimately shrugged and looked back to Kevin. "Well gee, I don't know. You look like good buds to me," he mumbled and looked back to Kevin, and Bradley seemed to accept the answer whether it was what he was really wanting or not and turned back to the TV, looking at the brand. "You know, I heard that Kyle's parents are gonna divorce," Butters stated and Kevin looked at him.

"Really?"

Butters gave a small nod, thinking about it while looking at that blanket's patterns. Bradley sighed and stopped what he was doing to sit on the TV's table edge.

"That sucks."

Butters nodded again.

Bradley nodded to the blonde. "What about your parents? Didn't they divorce or something?" he asked and Butters gave a slight, hesitant shrug.

"Technically they didn't really divorce, they're just seein' some other people," he mumbled and Bradley gave another nod.

"You wanna sleep in here?" Bradley asked and Butters shrugged.

"If it's really okay. I'm all alone in my room," he mumbled and Bradley nodded, laughing.

"Is Kevin okay?" Butters asked and Bradley nodded quickly, waving him off.

"Yeah, he just has some health issue, so when he gets too worn out or something, he falls asleep pretty hardcore."

"Oh. ...Well, that's kinda unfortunate."

"I know. Hey, take out your eye for me," Bradley grinned and Butters gave him a look but reached for his paler left eye anyway. He always was one to succumb to the wants of others. That was a main factor in why he led such a sad life. He never saw that, though: it was always everyone else who saw what he didn't in himself.

Bradley's phone rang and he answered it before looking at the ID, something that bothered Butters greatly. He watched Bradley's conversation and furrowed his brows at a laugh that slowly dropped to a grimace.

"Oh..." Butters heard his 'friend' say. He raised a brow, quirking his head to the side. It didn't take long before Bradley hung up and Butters crossed his legs.

"What is it?" He asked and Bradley groaned.

"You're not gonna believe who's on their way here."

l.l

Kyle looked at his phone, lying across his bed. When he and Stan parted, he had gone straight for his room and laid down. That's where he was, still.

He looked at his phone's messages, the blank space burning a hole in his chest while his eyes burned a hole in the phone's empty screen. Being lonely was lonely. A lonely feeling. He sat up and sighed deeply through his nose, putting his phone on his bed beside him. He could go and explore. And come across that freak again. He could text Shiela, but he had already put his phone down.

Kyle stood from the mattress and headed for the door. That guy stayed in room 120, a room front and left of Kyle's. As long as Kyle didn't go anywhere near that room, he probably wouldn't come across him. Then again, he had left earlier and maybe he hadn't come back yet. It'd be a plus if he checked out.

Kyle ultimately ended up leaving the room and heading for the stairs. He'd have to pass 120, but he was pretty sure the room was empty. He padded into the hallway and turned to the left, heading for the stairs. He needed more fresh air: the room's depression was suffocating him. Or was it his own?

He groaned and rubbed his eyes while walking. That event with Stan was still frustrating him. Oh, how he longed for that noirette that had spit on his heart but still, something told him that he, himself, wasn't worth it, so he let the thoughts be eaten by the latter.

_Light_.

Kyle stopped and looked to his left. There was just a crumbling wall. He stared at it for a moment before glancing downward. A crack of light just under the wall. He furrowed his brows and leaned forward to peek at it more. What the-

A tight grip found Kyle's hips and the redhead slammed his elbow back before thinking, body jerking forward to escape from the hold. "The fuck!" He turned to face the intruder and scowled at Kenny, the blonde laughing but holding a hand over his cheek.

"Aw shit, Kyle, that was good," he sniggered and Kyle glared at him with daggers.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Kyle shoved Kenny and the blonde scoffed, laughter dying down.

"Dude, what's wrong?" he asked, puzzled. You always like it when I sneak up and pinch your hips; it's what Kenny's betrayed voice made it sound like.

Kyle watched him for a moment before shaking his head. "Gah!" He looked back to the hotel's cracked hallway and frowned. There was no crack or light. He huffed and glanced around for something, but there was nothing of any sort but his delusions.

Kenny grabbed his upper arm, lightly.

"Dude, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, and Kyle looked at him. Kenny watched those confused jade eyes and raised a brow at him. "Kyle, what's wrong?"

Kyle succumbed to nothingness.

"Stan said he likes me," the pelirojo spoke and Kenny watched him, taken aback.

"Huh?"

"Stan said that he still likes me," Kyle murmured, and Kenny gave a low scoff and a shake of his head. He looked at Kyle.

"Kyle, we're all friends, but we both know that Stan's lying. And- and we're _friends_. We should stay like that." His voice was stern when his thoughts contradicted him, and Kyle pursed his lips, watching Kenny before looking to the hallway floor.

"...I know."

Kenny watched Kyle's sad face and he pressed his lips together, tight.

"...Rah!" The blonde knelt and pressed his shoulder to Kyle's stomach, and the redhead couldn't think anything before he was lifted into the air, bent over his friend's shoulder. He coughed and looked at Kenny's back in anger.

"Kenny, you ass, put me down!"

"Nahh, come on, you need to have some fun! Come on to my room with me!" The blonde cackled and hopped down the hallway to room 116, and Kyle cried out in anger, because again, the rooms were soundproof. Kenny carried Kyle along to his room and opened the door, and he carried him inside, kicking the door shut with his booted foot.

"You're such an asshole, Kenny!" Kyle slapped Kenny's back, and the blonde howled with laughter, and Kyle screamed when he was tossed from the man's shoulder. He fell against the bed, and his eyes stared at Kenny, wide, as he bounced on the creaking bed.

"You're fucking _crazy_!" He pulled his feet onto the bed and pulled off his black shoe to throw it at his friend.

Kenny laughed until it smacked his hip, and he feigned a pout.

"Awe, poor Kyle can't take a joke, can he?" The blonde laughed before holding up his hands and calming down when he saw Kyle pulling off his other shoe. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he sniggered and Kyle glared at him, holding his shoe. He huffed and shook his head.

"Shitwipe."

"Candlehead."

"Carpeteater."

"Matchbook."

Kyle gave Kenny a look at the last remark and the blonde laughed, "I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders and went to hop onto the bed, and Kyle rolled his eyes. Kenny lay on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and Kyle stayed sitting up, watching his friend in annoyance. The blonde friend reached out to the other and slapped his stomach, and Kyle howled in pain and slapped Kenny's head.

"You fucking dick! What is wrong with you today? Jesus Christ!" Kyle pulled his shirt up to look at his stomach, and it was red from the ride on Kenny's shoulder.

"Whoops." Kenny looked at the flushed skin and Kyle rolled his eyes and mocked him. Kenny put his hand on Kyle's pink stomach that held hidden freckles, and Kyle's cheeks got warm. It was still the night he showed Kenny and Stan the soundproof doors, and it was still just a little after Stan had confessed to him. Confessed. It sounded funny, because he shouldn't have had to confess: they were supposed to be dating.

Kyle slipped a hand from his shirt hem and dropped it over Kenny's, and it became apparent to him that Kenny was probably drunk. He had been buzzed earlier, and there was no telling what he had done with that girl. That girl. Kenny had fucked a stranger. It wasn't new, but it made Kyle grab Kenny's hand flick it away. He pulled his shirt down and looked at Kenny's face.

The blonde was smiling up at Kyle with pink cheeks, and Kyle shook his head. "I'm going to my room, and I'm going to bed," he said and stood from the bed, but a noise from Kenny made him spare the man a glance. Before he could look at his face, though, his eyes found a crinkled plastic bag on the bed beside Kenny, and he reached out to grab it.

"Is this what I think it is?" Kyle started unraveling the bag and Kenny blinked and sat up quick, eyes getting wide.

"No, it's just-"

Kyle unraveled it and glared at the bag. It was full of grass, weed, _cannabis_ , and he turned his glare to Kenny, who reached out quick and snatched the baggie.

He started crumpling it up again, and he shoved it back into his parka pocket, because it must have fallen out. Kyle scoffed and turned from the bed to leave the room, and Kenny stood up after him.

"It's not what you think, Kyle, okay? It's just-"

"I don't care what you say it is, Kenny, drugs are still drugs." Kyle looked back to Kenny and shook his head, and Kenny swallowed dryly, eyebrows knitted together in some emotion that he probably didn't know how to handle.

"No, it's not-"

Kyle remembered his shoe and knelt to grab it, and he stormed out of the room before he could hear anything else, because he frankly didn't care for excuses: Ike had fed him enough.


	5. Chapter Five

Clyde shrugged with a childish scoff. "I don't know, Babe!" he drawled and Bebe rolled her eyes at him.

"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered, running a hand down her face.

"He's not coming, then?" Wendy asked from where she sat on the bed, Stan sleeping beside her.

Clyde shrugged again. "I don't know! He said he was like, on his way, but then he said he may not make it," he restated, slowly.

"Well, it's two in the fucking morning," Bebe grumbled while looking at her phone's time.

"Did anyone tell Kyle?" Wendy looked at the two and they both looked at each other.

"I think Kenny did. I just, haven't seen either of 'em," Clyde stated with a meek smile and Bebe rubbed her face again.

"Doesn't Butters have like, _therapy,_ for the last stunt Cartman pulled on him?" Bebe asked flatly and Wendy bowed her head.

"For fuck's sake..." the noirette mumbled and stood from the bed. "I'm gonna go see how Butters and the others are doing," she stated, Bebe waving her off carelessly in stress.

"Oh! He just said he's here," Clyde stated and Bebe groaned.

"He's such an asswipe. When did he get here?" She looked at her boyfriend while Wendy headed for the door.

"He says he's been here unpacking for like, thirty minutes..."

Wendy left the room, the words being drowned out by the door's closing. She huffed.

"Wonder what room he's in," she grumbled to herself while heading for room 110. She rapped lightly on the door but paused. She had heard a bit of the 'silent rooms' from Stan earlier, and if it was true, then either they couldn't hear her, or they were all sleeping. She assumed the latter. The drugs Bradley used were unhealthy, and it was a sickening thought that Kenny was the one giving them away.

Wendy sighed and knelt down, peeking her brown eye into the door's keyhole. She could see that Kevin was asleep on one bed and on the other resided Butters and Bradley; Bradley's shirtless top didn't give her any consolation that Butters was staying away from the other blonde's ways.

A door clicked and Wendy glanced over, standing straight.

The panty-thief. He was dragging a black, wheeled suitcase behind him, and he had just unlocked room 120.

That case looks heavy, Wendy thought, and looked away from him when he glanced in her direction. Her skin tingled and she bit her lip. She glanced back with her eyes and exhaled deeply when he was gone, his room's door closing after his shadow. She turned to head back for Clyde and Bebe's room.

l.l

Kenny watched the floor in thought, leg bouncing. It had taken a while to unpack his cases, but they had gotten it done and now Cartman sat debating which bag of chips he wanted to open.

"So how's Kahl?" he asked while looking at the bag of Doritos. Kenny looked at him when he spoke and looked back to the floor.

"Good," he stated, Cartman nodding.

"Good."

The room was smothering and felt as though it were created in tension, although the two of them were absolutely fine. It was an illusion. Everything with Cartman was a psychotic trip.

Kenny looked back to Cartman, watching as the brunette's blue eyes switched between the two bags. Kenny couldn't help but to feel like there was something planned; like Cartman had some sort of plot.

"How have you been, Kenny?"

Kenny blinked and glanced away at the eyes that were suddenly watching him. "...I've been good," he replied, looking back. Cartman nodded again, watching the blonde with his blue eyes that weren't originally his.

"Good," the word reeked of death, and the two watched each other for a moment, Cartman's face looking calm- calculated. Kenny swallowed and nodded, toying with his clammy fingers.

"You know, Kenny, I heard that you got into trouble with the law," Cartman stated and clicked his tongue. Kenny grimaced.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"An ear." A smile tugged Cartman's lips, and Kenny crossed his arms, leaning back on the bed. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"He started it," he stated, and Cartman raised a thin eyebrow, amused.

"Oh really? I heard it was all you." His words smiled, and Kenny shook his head, looking at the lard.

"He started it when he messed with my family."

Cartman looked back to his bags, picking the Cheesey-Puffs and popping the bag open, turning his attention back to Kenny. "What family was that?" he asked, grabbing a fat handful.

Kenny huffed. "Kevin. He's been in the hospital for a long while now because of it." There was no point in lying, because Cartman already knew the story, and he grinned, his teeth straight and set in a perfect row of white.

"Why?" he asked, grinning.

_Bang!_

"What happened?" Wendy pulled out her phone, shining the light in the new darkness.

Bebe scoffed. "Did the electricity just shut off?"

Clyde pulled out his own phone, turning on the flashlight and flashing it around. He stood and headed for the light switch, flicking it. Nothing.

"Babe, check the hallway," Bebe called to him and he nodded, opening the door to peek out.

The sight of nothing gave his heart an uneasy lurch, and he peeked back into the room. "It's all out."

Bebe stood to head for her boyfriend, peeking out herself to make sure. Wendy nudged Stan, waking him up. "Stan, the lights shut off."

She nudged his arm and he peeked an eye at her, leaning up on his elbows. "Huh?"

l.l

Butters grabbed his phone, answering it and putting it to his ear.

"Butters?" Bebe's voice sounded and the young man gave a little moan as a response, eyes drifting back shut from where he lay next to Bradley's warm body.

"Butters, wake up!" Wendy called in the background of the phone and Butters opened his eyes again, lifting a hand to rub them.

"Yeah?" His voice was heavy from his sudden wake, and Bradley shifted, sighing deeply at the noise. His hot breath on Butters's ear made his eyes drift again.

"Wake up and get a flashlight, the electricity shut off!" Wendy called again and Butters furrowed his brows, eyes staying shut.

"...Hm...?"

"Oh for fuck's sake Butters: wake up, wake up the others, and meet us in my room- this is Bebe," Bebe slowly spoke into the phone and Butters opened his eyes, slowly sitting up in bed.

"Okay." He looked at his phone at a sudden click.

_Call failed_.

He blinked a few times, looking at the flashing words. He decided to put his phone away and started nudging Bradley. "Bradley wake up, the lights are all off," he mumbled tiredly and pulled his phone back out, turning on his flashlight.

Bradley groaned and squinted at Butters, "What?"

Butters repeated the words, standing and making his way to where Kevin slept. A sharp pain struck up his foot and he lifted it to look, balancing wobbily.

"There's glass over here," he grumbled and plucked at the shard, flashing his light to the floor to look.

"What? Are you okay?" Bradley stood, heading over after pulling his shirt back on.

Butters pointed at the floor, confused. On the floor beside Kevin's bed, hidden, were small shards of glass. "H-hey! His phone's broken!" Butters suddenly caught the cellphone, shattered on the floor beside the shards. Bradley raised an eyebrow and stepped over the mess to reach Kevin. He nudged the asian and froze, blinking.

Butters looked over with his light. "Did you wake him up?" he asked, peeking over. Bradley stared at Kevin before licking his lips and grabbing him to shake him. He was hard; stiff. Butters watched in his confusion as Bradley shook the barely moving form.

"Kevin, wake up! Butters, give me your light!"

Butters handed the man his phone and Bradley shined the light onto Kevin, his air hitching when he saw his form.

Kevin's skin was pale, a sickening, pasty white, and there was some discoloration on his throat, dry slobber trailed to his pillow.

Bradley nudged Kevin's body again, his form stuck from rigor mortis. Butters watched as Bradley stared, mouth trembling.

"...W-what is it?" Butters couldn't tell what was going on, and pure panic hit his chest when he saw the glassiness in Bradley's eyes.

l.l

Cartman had stayed behind, leaving Kenny to walk the dark hallway alone. _At least he gave me a flashlight_. He thought, glancing around the corridor with the bright light. It flashed over a pair of eyes and he jumped, a voice exclaiming in the dark. Kenny was going to ask who it was, but averted himself when a light shined in his own face.

"Kenny?" Wendy sounded and Kenny slowly looked back, making sure the light was gone.

"Yeah. The lights are off," he responded, flashing his light beside the woman to Stan, the man rubbing his eyes. They had all blinded each other.

"We know," Wendy replied, Kenny murmuring an apology to Stan while listening to Wendy.

"Where are the others?" the blonde asked, Stan deciding to answer that one.

"Clyde and Bebe went to find the manager, and we were going to check on Butters and the others," he stated, looking around with his phone's flashlight to the room numbers.

Kenny furrowed his brows. "So no one's checked on Kyle yet?" he asked flatly and Stan scoffed.

"No, will you, or something? We should just have everyone go to one room while we get this settled," the noirette muttered, Wendy putting a hand on his shoulder. She probably wouldn't let Stan check on Kyle, Kenny had assumed.

The blonde nodded, pointing off to Kyle's room. "Yeah, I'll go. Cartman's holing up in his own room, so we don't need to worry about him," he stated and the noirette duo nodded.

"How about we all go into Clyde and Bebe's room; leave Cartman in his own, though," Wendy sighed a suggestion and Kenny gave a nod.

"Alright, I guess that sounds like a plan. Me and Kyle'll meet you there," he replied and waved, Stan waving in return before turning with Wendy, the two heading for room 110. Kenny parted for room 119, light white in the darkness and shining small particles in the air. He huffed.

Cartman had room 115, which put Kenny just a bit away from Kyle's room and when he reached it, he flashed his light back to Stan and Wendy. Four rooms away, he could see them trying to get into 110. Kenny looked back to Kyle's door and he tried turning the doorknob: unlocked. _Dammit Kyle._ The blonde pushed the door open and flashed his light inside.

"Kyle?" he called into the dark, chilled room.

Nothingness.

l.l

Kyle's breath came in heavy, jagged waves. He couldn't see anything. At first, he thought that maybe it was just dark. But then, the longer it stayed and he didn't adjust, the chilling thought occured. _There's something wrong with my eyes._ If that had been the case, he would be a bit relieved. It was when he realized though, that he couldn't open his mouth, that his lips were stuck together underneath some barrier, something like _tape,_ that he came to the conclusion of _I'm blindfolded_ ; and that's when he started to panic. At least, he wanted to.

Kyle breathed deeply through his nose, head rolling to the side and body slipping further in his seat- his body jumped and his stomach had a deep, heavy, nervous pit. _There's something wrong with me,_ he thought. His toes and fingers were numb, tingly. He couldn't tell if it was his low blood sugar acting, or if it was something else- worse. _Have I been drugged?_ For the second time, he tried to lift up a hand, to touch his head, but when he tried, it was pain. _There's tape on my arm._ He remembered again and shook his head, a giant wave of dizziness coming over him and he fell back, his chair catching him. That was what it felt like, anyway. _I'm scared_. His breathing quickened at this new fear and his heart hit against his chest, trying to pop out, causing a new fear to quicken his breathing even more.

"You need to calm down or you'll swallow your tongue."

It was a shocking new voice, one that made Kyle tingle in fear. Something about it struck his anxious gut and the redhead lurched forward, body jumping into spasms. Footsteps hurriedly approached and fingers grabbed for the tape on Kyle's mouth, scratching and pinching his cheek in the process of trying to get it off fast enough. Once the tape was ripped off, Kyle's head was pulled roughly to the side by his hair, and he vomited, the liquid hitting the floor in a sick wet sound that made him puke again. The hand in his hair didn't leave, and Kyle took in quick, hitched breaths, fingers gripping the arms of his chair tight to keep him from falling through the floor and into nothingness.

"You're tripping," the voice sounded again and the fingers grew tight in Kyle's hair, the redhead coughing and trying to get free in his head but physically, there was nothing from him to show a hint of fight.

Kyle's head was pulled forward again and when the fingers untangled themselves from his hair his head lolled back, hitting the back of the chair. The man with him watched him in unamusement, the only sound being Kyle's jagged breathing.

"You're not alright," the voice sounded and Kyle had enough of himself to shake his head in agreement, grip on the chair never letting up. _I'll fall._

"You're not going to be alright when I'm through with you," the chilling voice sounded again and Kyle rolled forward, head bowing towards his knees.

"W..." he murmured nonsense and the other man simply watched him, taking in the sight of the clammy redhead whose bones rattled with his breathing, some puke still trailing from his mouth with some bloody saliva. The man leaned to Kyle, pressing his face in the crook of the redhead's neck and shoulder to inhale the scent of his skin light with ivory soap. He sighed deeply against the cold skin, sticky with sweat, and he smiled to himself, chuckling.

He slipped his fingers back into Kyle's red curls and pulled his head back, leaning close to his ear, his hot breath burning him.

"You're mine, _Kyle_." It was a tiny whisper that sounded louder than Kyle's breathing and the redhead's airway hitched, his body trembling. He could only murmur nonsense, when in his mind, he could understand everything he was trying to say. _I'm scared- I'm dead..._

The voice said something else to him, but he couldn't understand it, and a hand gripped his right thigh tight, the fingers squeezing his flesh through his silk pajama pants. His legs were pulled open, and his breathing quickened, his heart slamming against his chest so hard that it hurt, and it was making him lose his balance in the chair, and he got dizzy again.


	6. Chapter Six

Bebe and Clyde held hands while walking in the dark to the manager's office, Bebe holding the flashlight because Clyde thought it seemed safer for her that way.

Clyde listened to his fiancee grumble about the absence of electricity and phone service, and that the manager would be in _big_ trouble by the time she finished with him. Something quick rushed through the dark and Clyde wouldn't have noticed it if were _actually_ paying attention to what Bebe was saying. He kept it to himself though, because Bebe scared in the dark wasn't a very good thing at all, and he'd rather not deal with that right now.

They reached the end of the stairs eventually, and Clyde led Bebe to find the office.

"This place is a fucking joke," Bebe grumbled again and Clyde glanced to her. _Well sorry it had such good reviews_. He turned his attention back to searching and he pointed to the front desk.

"I'll bet his room is behind there." He grinned, and Bebe rolled her eyes.

"My hero, so smart," she replied but smiled in return, regardless.

Clyde led the way past the manager's counter and went to knock on the door behind it: OFFICE.

"Hello? Mr. Manager, we have a complaint. A big one," he called while knocking. He looked at Bebe and pointed to the office window a few feet away. When the hotel was still fresh popular, there were two areas of reception, the counter, and the window, because there were so many people wanting to check in. Both areas had bells, but the window's bell made it seem more personal and mysterious because the receptionist inside would have to peel open the curtains to talk to you, and the bell had something sensual about it that made you question: Will he be cute, or _hot_?

Bebe nodded and the two let each other go, Bebe taking the flashlight and going to the window, while Clyde stayed behind at the door. The maroon curtains were closed, and she wasn't the kind of gal to ring a bell and have him come to her; she grabbed the curtains and pulled them open. Darkness.

She lifted the flashlight and peered inside the dark room, twisting her lips while she leaned into the small window. There was a large shelf for keys and files, and the rest of the room was probably behind it.

"Hey, Manager! Wake up and talk to us!" she called after nothing really seemed to be happening for her or Clyde.

Clyde huffed and stopped knocking. He looked at Bebe and shook his head. "Damn, this sucks."

Bebe stepped away from the window and made her way back to Clyde. "Okay Mr. Macho, what do we do now?"

Clyde took her hand again and shrugged. "I guess the only choice is to go into town and report it. I'll take you back to the others and head out," he stated and Bebe huffed.

"Alright."

The two headed back up the stairs and went up to their room. The silence was eerie, and being in the dark should have made her nervous, but holding Clyde's hand during this was calming, so much so, that it felt like it was only a minor mishap.

Room 113 was something else entirely, though. Clyde pushed the door open and he and his blonde were immediately struck with incoherent speaking and someone crying. Bradley was an angry, sobbing mess, and Butters stood confused with some of his own tears. Stan was holding Bradley while the blonde struggled to get away from him, and Wendy stood with Butters, the two speaking quietly, the blonde trying to figure something out.

"What happened?" Clyde asked, shutting the door behind him when Bebe entered.

"Something happened to Kevin or something, and Bradley's freaking the fuck out!" Stan grunted when one of Bradley's elbows slammed into his side and he had to grip the man harder to keep him from escaping while he was winded.

"What?" Clyde grabbed the doorknob to leave and check on Kevin himself, but Wendy shook her head to him.

"We've tried getting back in, but it's locked or something, their key won't work, so we can't get in," she spoke, and Butters shook his own head, to himself.

Clyde considered this and looked at Bradley. "Bradley, calm down. Me and Stan will go and check on him, alright? Stay here with the girls and Butters, and we'll get the room open," he said, but Bradley's expression showed too much resistance. The blonde seemed to think hard about it though, and Stan looked at him when he felt his body soften.

The noirette sighed in relief and let Bradley go, glancing to Clyde before looking to Wendy, "I guess we're going to check on Kevin, I'll be back."

Wendy nodded, lips pulled to a tight line, and she crossed her arms around herself. How unsettling this all was.

Bebe looked at Clyde and held out the flashlight, "Don't be long, you need to go to town." Her voice was soft and Clyde nodded once, like an immature soldier, before taking the flashlight. Bebe went to sit on a bed and got Bradley to join her. Clyde waited for Stan to give a quick peck to Wendy before he joined the man, the brunette opening the door and heading out first with Stan close behind him.

Room 110 was a straight shot ahead and one door to the right. Clyde led the way with the flashlight, but somehow over the small walk, the light had been transferred to Stan. They approached the room and Stan walked ahead of Clyde, going to grab and turn the doorknob.

It turned but didn't open, and he furrowed his dark eyebrows, "It's not locked." He looked at Clyde and Clyde looked himself, turning the knob. He knelt and peeked into the keyhole with a flash of the light from Stan.

"No, the lock's broken," he said and stood back up.

"How do you know?"

"Craig. He showed me how to break locks when we were younger; this one's broken. There's something broken inside of it."

"So how do we get in?"

"We don't. That's what you do to keep people out. For good."

Stan scoffed and looked at Clyde, "We need in there." He grabbed the doorknob to try turning it again and Clyde nodded.

"I know." He tapped the door with the toe of his shoe. "These doors open inwards, that means that we can charge it until it opens."

Stan nodded at the idea before remembering the manager's office. "What happened at the office? Did you guys find anyone?" he asked, and Clyde looked at him before shaking his head in annoyance.

"No, there wasn't anyone there. Me and Bebe decided I'd go into town and report it, because the phones aren't connecting, but I guess I got myself stuck here a little longer," he said and chuckled half-heartedly.

Stan huffed and decided to drop the conversation, pointing to the door. "On three, yeah? One.." He braced himself and Clyde followed example. The two were football quarterbacks in high school; the door had to fall down. "Two... three."

The two slammed their sides into the door and it budged on the first try, bringing a grin to Clyde's face, who could be eased in any situation. The two decided to back away and do it one more time, and the door swung open, slamming wide and hitting the wall inside with the doorknob. The two caught each other and straightened up, Stan dusting himself while Clyde swept the flashlight from him and went to inspect the room.

"Kevin?" he called, flashing the light around the room. A messy bed, a messy room, another messy bed...

"He's not here," he stated to Stan, going to walk deeper into the room. He stepped by the beds and his shoe crunched some glass or something near the second bed. Other than the broken stuff over here and the messy stuff over there, there wasn't a Kevin.

"Bradley said he was like ...dead... or something," Stan mumbled, following Clyde and the light.

"Well, alive or not, he's not here." Clyde clicked his tongue. It probably seemed like Clyde was being heartless, but really, he had hung out with Kevin and Bradley from time to time, and he knew how they could get; Bradley had OD'd once, it wouldn't be a shock if Kevin did. He wasn't exactly the one to hear the story of what happened, so it was only convenient to put the pieces together on his own.

"I guess he really is gone," Stan spoke uneasily and looked around again. "...It just doesn't feel right. Where would he go?"

Clyde shook his head in response. "I don't know. If he's really hurt though, then we need to find him quick. Hey, where's Kenny?"

He looked at Stan and Stan motioned off, "He went to get Kyle while me and Wendy got Kevin and Bradley." The two fell silent with the same thought crossing their minds. Where were they?

"It's only right to look for them, but this place is kind of too big, and it's too dark. I think we should go to the others and tell them about Kevin, then I'll go to town," Clyde said and Stan gave him a look.

"Well, what about Kenny and Kyle? What if they got kidnapped, or something?" he asked and Clyde huffed, shrugging.

"I don't know, Stan, but it's not necessarily safe to go looking for them while the girls are all alone with the B's," he stated, but Stan wasn't giving in.

"We'll go looking as a group," he said and turned to leave the room. Clyde watched him for a moment in a hidden frustration before he followed after, helping guide them both back to 113.

l.l

He thought he was dead at first, like he was a ghost looking on at himself, but that effect had soon faded when he realized that his out-of-body experience was him staring on at a recorded video of himself. His eyes were foggy, and his mouth was full of thick, bloody saliva that dripped from his numbed mouth, like when he had surgery to have his wisdom teeth extracted and had four pockets of dissolvable cheek stitching as a result. He was cold and shivering, and felt like his fingers had been taken, but he had just enough reason to know that it was because of anesthesia.

_What did they do to me?_

_What's happening?_

_What am I watching?_

Those questions went circling around and around in his head; he'd answer it himself, to himself, but then he'd forget and the question would come around again.

_What did they do to me?_

_What's happening?_

_What-_

"You're not watching properly," that sick voice sounded again and Kyle's head was pulled back to view the video correctly. His head would lull to the side, or sink down with his body, and he'd be pulled back up in the seat or have his head pulled back to see right.

Kyle's eyes found the video of him stripping for a shower, but he only had enough reason to conclude that it was some indie film he was watching, with some sort of wierd rape vibe- like how listening to Nirvana made you feel.

"Pay attention," the sick voice said and Kyle's eyes opened after drifting shut. He found the video again and once again tried to make a conclusion as to what it was. It looked like it had been shot through some hole, a peeping tom?

_Sick._ The voice was so ill and chilling that any time Kyle heard it, it made his ears tingle. _Sick_. That was what he decided to call the voice, it's name. Like how _Kyle_ was Kyle's name. _That's my name. His name is_

"Sick." The name came out vocally and hearing his own voice made Kyle jump in his seat, his heart racing fast in his chest at the scare. Sick was quiet for a long moment, silent. _Silence_.

"Here. I want to see you," Sick finally spoke and something dropped over Kyle's eyes, blinding them. _Blinding me._

Something snaked into the bottom of Kyle's shirt and he only got colder.

l.l

"Dammit, man!" Kenny slammed his fist against 120's door. "I know you have him, you fuck!" He tried the doorknob again, but it was locked and it didn't seem like unlocking anytime soon. The blonde let out a frustrated yell, the others behind him watching in silence.

This door seemed to open outwards, which meant that they'd have hell trying to get in, so Stan watched in silent fury, Wendy standing beside him with a comforting hand on Butters' shoulder. Bradley seemed to have run out of steam and stood meekly beside Bebe, she and Clyde holding hands and watching Kenny's outrage.

Wendy slipped away from Stan and Butters and went to Kenny's side. "Kenny, it's hopeless. Our best bet is Cartman and his shenanigans, so we should head over there. It's pointless to waste all of our strength here," she spoke softly and Kenny grit his teeth, eyes never leaving the door that seemed to be glaring right back at him in intimidation. The blonde hit the door again before swallowing his anger and turning from it, ignoring the group that watched him by cutting through the middle of his friends for room 115.


	7. Chapter Seven

The group left to room 115, and Cartman let them all into his 'abode'.

"Care for some chips, Bebe? You look to be gaining." Cartman smiled smugly to the blonde and all she could do was gape at him. Her eyes flickered to Kenny and the male blonde looked at her, eyes wide. He shook his head lightly, telling her 'no, I didn't tell anyone'. Clyde was already jumping on Cartman, verbally.

"You fucking asshole, man, who the hell invited you, anyway? Apologize to Bebe!"

"Yeah, Cartman, that wasn't cool." Wendy crossed her arms. Butters sniffed.

"I'm sorry, are you two still friends?" Cartman looked at Wendy and laughed, and she looked at Stan with tight lips to make him do something. He didn't though, just looked to Kenny. The two knew Cartman best, and he knew dirt on everyone, and they had dirt that they didn't want shared to their group.

"Just fucking help us find Kyle and Kevin!" Bradley lurched forward and grabbed Cartman by his white shirt's collar, and the bigger man smiled to him, teeth glistening in the reflection of Wendy's flashlight.

"Sure, why didn't you ask?" Cartman placed a fat hand on Bradley's hand that fisted his shirt, and the blonde huffed and let him go, shoving him back, but it didn't do much because Cartman was heavy and could stand his ground. "Where do we go first?" The neonazi brunette looked at everyone, intimidating them with his fake blue eyes, and Clyde answered, because he wouldn't stand down to Cartman, ever.

"Kevin's gone from 110. Kyle's gone from 119. There's some creepy fuck in 120 who has a liking for Kyle," he said, and it made Cartman smile more in amusement.

"Oh? Well, it's always the creeps, first. To 120." The brunette walked through them all and slipped out of 115, and Wendy looked at Stan.

"How could you have a friend like him? Did you honestly invite that fat idiot?" She looked at her fiance in betrayal, and he scoffed and shook his head.

"Hell no! He's not my friend, either, you know how long it's been since graduation? Jesus."

"Regardless, he's here. If he didn't take Kyle, he'll damn well help us find him," Kenny spoke up, and Bradley scowled at him.

"What about Kevin?"

"What about Kevin? We'll look for him, too. Come on before we lose Fatty." Kenny walked out after Cartman, and everyone reluctantly followed. Butters stayed in the back, near Bebe, who was quiet in her self mourning and despair. Clyde walked beside her, arm around her waist and holding her close, because a sad Bebe made a sad Clyde. Bradley followed Cartman closest, because he wasn't afraid of beating him up, and Kenny fell behind with Stan and Wendy.

Stan looked at Kenny. "Did you at least tell Kyle about Cartman?"

"Fuck no, he got pissed off at me and left, the last I saw him." The blonde scowled at himself and Wendy sighed.

"Well, at least Cartman won't be alone with him. We just need to gather Kevin and Kyle and leave," she breathed.

"I'm fucking sorry that I thought this was a good place," Clyde spoke up and Wendy looked back at him. She shook her head lightly and they all stopped behind Cartman when they reached 120, which was a little away from 115.

Cartman stood still, not knocking, so Bradley scoffed at him and knocked hard. There was no answer, ever, and he looked at Cartman. "What's your plan, Smarty?" Cartman smiled kindly to Bradley and crossed his arms. He cleared his throat.

"Butters, don't you know how to pick locks?" he called the blonde out and the man looked at him through a cringy face. Everyone's eyes fell to Butters, and it put him to shame.

"Why didn't you pick it earlier?" Bebe asked him, and he sighed heavily, stepping up to the door.

"Because it's illegal, and we're supposed to be having a good time," he said weakly and knelt in front of the door. Cartman fished into his pants pocket and pulled out a bobby pin, and held it out to Butters, and the blonde reluctantly took it and bent it to shape. Then he slipped it inside, twisting and jiggling it until the door clicked. Cartman's hand found place on Butters' shoulder, and he pat it, and the blonde shut his eyes tight, counting his breaths.

"Come on." Bradley grabbed Butters by the upper arm and pulled him up, and the blonde staggered behind him. Cartman laughed some before opening the door, and he motioned to the group.

"Those with flashlights." He smiled. Kenny, Wendy, and Bebe had them, but Kenny made the girls stay behind and took Stan inside. He would have taken Clyde, too, and Clyde would have gone, but he needed to stay out there to keep Cartman in line. Cartman stepped forward to follow them, but Clyde grabbed him by the arm.

"Not you," he spoke and the bigger brunette looked at him and smiled.

"Alright, Donovan."

Kenny and Stan stepped into the room and looked around.

"It smells fucking weird in here," Stan mumbled and Kenny nodded, flashing the light around the dark room.

"It smells like chemicals," the blonde stated, and Stan looked at his friend.

"What would he do with chemicals?" he asked, Kenny walking further into the room, flashing the light around the emptiness.

"Make drugs, photography, a number of things," Kenny replied, flashing the light over the beds and couch, that were empty. Stan shook his head and walked around the dimly lit room of the flashlight, and he nudged some tool on the floor with his toe.

"Seems like he's not here," he grumbled, but Kenny shook his head.

"He could be in the bathroom or a closet," he said and checked the areas. It was all empty, though.

"You guys can all come in!" Stan called to the group, and they made it inside in their own paces.

"He's not here?" Bebe asked, and Stan shook his head.

"It's fucking empty," he huffed. Wendy looked around with her own flashlight, and she went to the windows when she noticed the toe of shoes poking out from under the curtains. Kenny watched her, trying to figure out what she was doing, but she tore the curtains open too quick, and her scream filled the room, making Bebe scream and Butters scream, and the blondes turned to run out of the room, but Clyde caught Bebe first, and Kenny took off after Butters. Stan looked at the window and ran over to Wendy to turn her away from it.

It was the creep, hanging from a noose outside the window, dead. There was a crash in the room that sent everyone rushing to get out of it, and Stan tried to keep everyone together.

"Don't run! Don't fucking run!" Clyde had managed to keep Bebe to him, but Bradley and Cartman had gone, Stan catching Wendy just before she could hit the doorway.

"Butters!" Kenny ran after the blonde, his light flashing around while he ran. Butters was fast, and Kenny could hardly see him anymore. There was the sound of a grunt, like Butters had run into something, and Kenny ran to find him, but he was gone.

"Butters!" he called, looking around the hallway. He was gone. Kenny could hear more voices, though, and he turned to look back at 120. Bradley and Cartman were running from the room, and Kenny ran to grab for Bradley, because he'd rather save him, than the lard.

"Bradley, come here!" He grasped for the blonde, and the man looked to him. He stopped running and pointed at the room.

"He's dead in there! He's fucking dead!"

"But he doesn't have Kevin or Kyle, alright?" Kenny grabbed the blonde in case he tried to run again, and he glanced to the room when Stan and Clyde came out with their girls. Stan left Wendy to hold onto Bebe, and he walked to Kenny. He grabbed the blonde and pulled him down so he could talk into his ear.

"The window was locked from the inside," he whispered to his friend, and Kenny furrowed his eyebrows.

"What?"

"If he killed himself, he didn't do it from his room," Stan whispered, and Kenny blinked.

"...If he was _killed_..."

"Then whoever hurt Kevin could be upstairs."

Kenny looked to Clyde, the brunette trying to calm his crying girlfriend.

"Clyde, take the girls and Bradley and drive into town; me and Stan are going to look for Kevin and Kyle, and we'll bring them in Stan's car when we find them - just go," he said to the brunette, who sighed at Bebe's nodding in agreement.

"Wait, what? I'm not leaving without Kevin!" Bradley glared at Kenny, but the other blonde just shook his head.

"It'll be worse if more people get lost- I just lost Butters, and I need to find him, too. We won't leave without them all, okay?" Kenny pat Bradley's back, nudging him to Clyde, and he reluctantly joined the jock and the two girls.

"You lost Butters?" Stan looked at Kenny and the blonde scoffed and motioned off, down the hall.

"It's dark, man, are you kidding me?"

Stan shook his head and went to Wendy. He spared her a kiss and nudged her.

"You guys go on, we'll meet up later," he said and she nodded, walking when Clyde started leading them to the stairs. Stan watched them descend until he couldn't see them anymore, and he sighed and scratched his head.

"What do we do first? Look for Butters, or check out the next floor?" he asked dryly.

"We check out the next floor. Butters is smart, he can dive out of trouble," Kenny mumbled and motioned for Stan, and the two went to the stairs.

l.l

The drugs had started to wear off. Kyle was sobbing, his hair being held roughly by the tight fingers that were tangled in it, pulling it, pulling his head back to reveal his pale neck. He had been bitten, a few times, on his throat and the crook of his neck, and his eyes were covered by the blindfold. He was on a bed, though, he knew that.

Sick grunted into his ear, laying over him, _thrusting_ into him, and Kyle couldn't do anything because his hands were tied tight to the bedframe, and his legs were weak from the drugs. Kyle cried and shifted on the bed to try and get away, but Sick was _inside_ of him, and he couldn't get away far enough. A warm tongue dragged across Kyle's throat, and the redhead shivered and sobbed. It hurt. Tremendously. When the drugs were active, it was numb, and his mind was everywhere, but Sick hadn't given him a new injection yet, and he felt everything; the way his body felt bruised, the burning sensation of the bites, the soreness in his hips from his thighs being roughly pulled open earlier, the soreness in his arm from the needle, and the rough scraping of Sick slamming in and out of him.

"Stop..." Kyle cried softly, the taste of iron stuck in his mouth. "Please..." he breathed softly, his mind spinning, and his heart racing. His blood sugar was getting low. He needed to check his blood sugar. He needed to get away. He needed to go home.

"Shut the fuck up," Sick whispered sharply in Kyle's ear, and he slammed himself deep against Kyle, shoving himself in to the hilt, and Kyle sobbed when it hit his spot. Now that the drugs were wearing off, Kyle could feel everything, and he could hear everything. The room was quiet, it felt damp, it stank like mold, and if Kyle thought really hard about it, Sick's voice sounded familiar. It didn't sound like that creepy guy's from 120. It sounded familiar.

Sick breathed deeply against Kyle's ear and he pulled the redhead's hair more roughly, pulling his head taught to the side, making his neck hurt. His other hand slid up and down Kyle's torso, feeling him, and his skin was cold. Kyle felt hot now that he was coming to, and he felt ill with fever. How long had he been here? Months? A year? Just a week? Just an _hour_? Sick gripped Kyle's hair tight, enough to make the redhead cry in pain, before he let him go and he pushed off of the redhead. Kyle breathed heavily and cried, shaking his head softly against the mattress. What had he done? Was he at fault?

Sick's cold hands grabbed Kyle's hips tight, enough to make him cry out and shift, but Sick held him, and he pulled out of Kyle. Then he pushed back in, and slammed against him roughly, the sounds of Kyle's sobbing and light screaming filling the room with the sick sound of Sick raping him.

Kyle counted. He counted the seconds. He counted the minutes. He counted the minutes to an hour, when Sick's breathing got quick and his thrusts got harder, more quick and frantic. Kyle tugged at his bound wrists, but it only made the bindings squeeze more against his wrist bones, and he sobbed. Sick's fingers bruised Kyle's hips with their grip, and his ass was raw. Sick pushed himself deep inside with a low groan and gave a few deep, slow thrusts, and Kyle could feel the cum.

One of Sick's hands left Kyle's hips, and he dragged it up the redhead's hot stomach to his chest, scraping his nails over his nipples.

But then there was a _click_ , and Sick pulled out of Kyle.

"Hey." There was a voice, apart from Sick's, and Sick moved away from Kyle's abused form.

"Guess what I got." It was the second, new voice, and Kyle didn't call for help, because he could tell from the way he spoke that he wasn't help. It was just another Sick.

"Cool," Sick said.

"So give me the bed."

"Just use them both, he's not drugged now," Sick said, and something heavy fell onto the bed beside Kyle. Kyle could hear the sound of muffled crying, and he grit his sore, bloody teeth. Sick's friend had brought someone else. Friend? Were they really human enough to have friends?

"Fuck yeah." There was another weight on the mattress, and the other person's crying got louder, and Kyle could hear fabric tearing.

Sick's friend's voice also sounded familiar. It was scary.

"I changed my mind, you can only have Butters," Sick said, and Kyle almost remembered whose voice it was, but there was a sharp pain in his arm, and he could feel the injection.

l.l

Upstairs was a different story. Or, rather, a different situation. At the top of the stairs, there was a gate, drawn and locked, cutting off any access of getting up. The elevator was out of service with no electricity, so the two were at a loss.

Kenny kicked the gate hard, but it wasn't weak, and Stan shook his head. "Damn."

"Really, fucking damn. The basement! If we can find the fuse box, I can get the lights back on." Kenny grinned over excitedly, and Stan blinked, nodding after understanding.

"Great, great! Let's fucking go!"


	8. Chapter Eight

Bradley stood bitterly with Clyde, Bebe, and Wendy. Clyde was trying to start his truck, but it wasn't working; it only sputtered, and it was making Bebe increasingly upset. Clyde looked at Wendy.

"What about your car?" he asked, because the rides to the hotel had consisted of: Kyle, Stan, and Kenny; Wendy; Kevin, Bradley, and Butters; Clyde and Bebe. If Clyde's truck wasn't starting, the only other option was Wendy's, because Stan had the key to his car, and because Kevin had the key to his car, too.

Wendy beckoned them to follow her to her car, arms around herself in discomfort, and they all followed but Bradley, whose bitterness over it all left him feeling like they would be stuck there. While the others left to Wendy's car, Bradley took to glaring at the surroundings of the hotel. It was desolate, and there was a large set of woods to its side. If he hadn't been glaring, he wouldn't have noticed, but he was, and he did see it: someone standing in the woods, watching them. Their eyes were shiny in the darkness, but when Bradley's eyes met them, they disappeared.

Bradley looked over to Clyde and the girls, who were having the same luck with Wendy's car that they'd had with Clyde's. Someone had sabotaged the cars. Someone was watching them in the woods.

"Guys!" he called, and they looked over. He pointed to the woods. "Some fuck is watching us in there!" he said, and Clyde blinked.

"What? No fucking way." Clyde looked at the woods, and Bradley just shook his head.

"I'm gonna kick their ass." He headed for the woods, and both girls held Clyde back when he pushed forward to follow the blonde.

"Don't go with him, are you crazy?" Bebe cried at him, but he just scoffed and motioned off after Bradley.

"I'm not gonna let him go _alone_ , are _you_ crazy? Jeez, fucking come on, we'll all go." The two girls stared at Clyde with wide eyes, and he groaned deeply. "Lock yourself in the car, stay out of view, I'll be right fucking back. I _swear_." He pecked Bebe's lips and gave a rushed smile to Wendy, because Bradley was getting out of view. It was Wendy who agreed, and she let him go to grab Bebe.

"Come on, Bebe." She pulled Bebe's hands from Clyde, and the blonde flashed her wide brown eyes to Wendy. The noirette pulled her toward the car, and Clyde took the chance to run after Bradley, leaving Bebe to try and break from Wendy to go after, but she failed and just fell against Wendy to breathe.

Bradley glanced back to Clyde when he heard him approaching, and the brunette gave a quick shake of his head. "Chicks, man," he grumbled, but Bradley didn't smile. He turned his eyes back to the woods, and the two pushed inside. The trees were big. The shadows were big and thick. The air was heavy. The woods were creepy.

Since Bradley had seen the figure leave, he hadn't seen anything since, but they had to still be in the woods, maybe hiding, watching them- plotting against them. That freak in 120 hadn't taken Kyle, or hurt Kevin, or snatched Butters, because he was dead; probably murdered. Either that person out here had sabotaged the cars and scattered everyone, or they were just a bystander not wanting to get involved, but either way: they were getting socked. They needed help, and they would get it.

The two delved deeper into the woods, but they didn't find any footprints or a person. They would use their own footprints to backtrack out of the woods back to the girls when they gave up or succeeded. The woods were even colder than the air just outside, though, and the two were shivering. Clyde could see his breath.

There was the occasional break of a stick, but it would turn out to be a rabbit, or a squirrel. Until there was a louder, heavier crack, and the two men looked in different directions.

"Where was it?" Clyde asked, and Bradley pointed.

"I think over there," he said and pushed off to follow it, and Clyde went after. They had to walk through a few bunches of trees, but then they found it, and all they could do was stare in horror.

Cartman, sitting against a tree, dead. His stomach was ripped open, and his guts were splayed, head hung low in front of him with bloody saliva dripping from it. His hands were buried in his pulled guts, so he must had been alive when it was done. But now, obviously, he was dead.

" _F-fuck_ ," Clyde breathed heavily and stepped back, but Bradley pushed onto the body, and he knelt on rubbery legs. He held out a hand over Cartman's gut, and it was warm.

"...It wasn't that long ago," Bradly murmured and looked back to Clyde. Clyde still looked mortified, even if he hated Cartman, but Bradley could see movement behind Clyde, and he jumped up to run for the brunette and push him. Clyde fell onto his butt, and something heavy smacked Bradley into the ground. Clyde looked up, and there was a giant, dark shadow looming over him. Something rushed down for him, but he dived out of the way, and it smacked into the ground. Clyde looked at Bradley.

"Bradley, get up!" He grabbed snow to throw at the blonde, but the man only looked at Clyde. There was blood dripping into his eyes from his hair, but he was conscious.

"Run," he said, and the figure raised the heavy thing up again, and Clyde stumbled up and turned to run after his footprints, but after a time, _they were gone_.

Clyde looked all around in silent panic. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He had to get to the girls. He had to, he had to. Off in the trees, he could see bright lights- car lights, and he took off to run to them. He reached the end of the woods, and he could see that there was a car started, the lights on, making Bebe and Wendy's forms visible inside. The girls seemed to see Clyde, and he looked back to the other car. Its lights shut off, and it backed up, repositioning itself. Then it stopped moving, when it was facing the side of Wendy's car, and it made a loud rev. Clyde looked back to the girls and raised his arms up, trying to beckon them out of the car, but they couldn't understand.

"What's he doing?" Bebe asked, trying to make sense of the gesturing, and Wendy narrowed her eyes at the brunette, trying to figure out herself what he was doing. There was a loud screech, and she looked out her window, and there was a car speeding at them. Bebe seemed to notice too, and she started opening the back door. She was closest to it, and Wendy was closest to the car, both in the backseat together.

"Hurry, hurry!" Wendy tapped Bebe's shoulder, and the blonde glanced back at her.

"I'm trying!"

She was in too much a panic to pull the handle right, but she got it after a second, and she slammed the door open. She slipped out and took off running from the car, and Wendy got out after her just as soon as the speeding car slammed into her Volkswagen. Wendy ran for Bebe, the blonde screaming for her, but the car's impact on hers sent it crashing to its side, and the open back door slammed down, scraping hard and deep along her left calf, and she screamed and crumpled to the snow from the force of it.

" _Clyde, help her!"_ Bebe shrieked, but the man was already running over. Wendy was sobbing in pain in the snow, her leg pinned from the door, and the speeding car started to slowly backed up. Its absence made the car feel lighter on her leg, but she couldn't get free herself.

"Wendy, hold the fuck on!" Clyde ran to the girl and fell to her side on his knees. He gripped the door hard and used all of his strength to try and pull it up, but it had dug deep into her leg, blood pooling over her jeans and spilling into the snow. "Bebe, help me!" Clyde yelled to Bebe, and the blonde rushed over to try and help. The door was lifted some, but it was still in her calf.

"Wendy, you're going to have to crawl out! Hurry it up!" Clyde grunted, and Wendy sobbed, but crawled anyway. The edge of the door was hooked in her leg, and she had to jerk her leg free. The corner sliced its way out, and once she was free, she dropped her head into the snow to cry. Bebe looked over the car and her eyes widened. There was another heavy screech, and the car was speeding at them again. She and Clyde dropped the door, and Clyde stood. He bent to sweep Wendy into his arms, and he started running, Bebe running after him. The car slammed into Wendy's again, and it sent it crashing after them, but they were out of its reach, and Clyde nodded to the hotel doors.

"Bebe, get the doors!"

Bebe ran ahead to open the doors, but they didn't budge. She pulled and pulled, but they didn't open, and she looked back to Clyde. "They're locked!" Her boyfriend growled, and he looked back to the killer car. It had pushed Wendy's out of the way, and had a clear view of them. If they could get out of the way, it could smash the doors open.

"Wait," Clyde said through Wendy's bawling.

Bebe looked at him incredulously. "What? Clyde, they're _locked_!"

The car sped for them, and Clyde waited, but just before it got close to them, it stopped. And it didn't move after.

"Come on, you motherfucker!" Clyde spat heavily, and Bebe just grabbed his arm. Wendy's leg was throbbing and bleeding profusely, soaking Clyde's right arm. The car didn't move, though. Bebe glanced off to find somewhere they could go, somewhere that was safe, but she didn't see anything. It would just be a stand off; the car waiting for them to run, and them waiting for the car to go.

"Clyde, where's Bradley?" Bebe asked, looking at him. Clyde only shook his head as an answer, but it was enough to make her start crying, because they were going to die, too.

l.l

The basement was locked near the manager's office, but Kenny and Stan broke it open, and they headed down the stairs with their phones' flashlights. The stairs were cement, because the building was older, which meant that it was sturdier. The basement had a boiler, a furnace, and a generator; all not working. The fuse box was in a corner, and Kenny headed off to it to check it out, while Stan walked to the generator to kick it. It should have been on, with the way the switch was flicked, but it obviously wasn't, so it must have been broken. It did look pretty old. Kenny made a noise from his spot, and Stan went over to him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"There's a fuse missing. Here, it's been pulled off. If I could get another, I could hook it up, but there's no telling where one would be."

"It's a basement; there must be a storage area somewhere, right? For things like 'this'." Stan motioned to the hotel as a whole, and Kenny gave a shrug.

"Maybe. Perhaps. Let's start looking," Kenny said, and the two broke off to search the basement. It was unnecessarily big, with some sections covered by large plastic, and there were little storage closets and lockers, but the lockers were locked, and the storage closets only had cleaners and linen sheets. Kenny backtracked to the fusebox and looked at the floor. Did it maybe, hopefully, just fall out?

The cement flooring was clean, though, and it left Kenny to search again.

"Dude, check these out," Stan spoke up, and Kenny went over. The noirette had a box of syringes, and Kenny cringed heavily.

" _Fuck_ , man." The blonde reached for the box but flinched away. In the past, he had used crack cocaine, some meth, ecstasy at times, and even heroine. Heroine was his worst addiction. It had him clawing at his inner forearms when he was in the rehab center, so that he could get more, because he needed it, and he was willing to hurt himself for it. It was the reason his brother was in the hospital, comatose. Because he stole heroin from his supplier, and they threw Kevin off of a building. And then Kenny attacked them, and it was a big mess for almost two years; it was enough to sober him up, though. Seeing these needles in the box, though, he didn't care what they were used for; they were _sickening_.

"You okay?" Stan looked at Kenny, and the blonde nodded despite his pale face.

"Yeah. Put it down, let's get the fucking fuse."

It took a very long while, but Kenny found some wires that he could hook up in the fuse's place, and the lights turned back on.

"Fucking A." Stan grinned wildly at the brightness, but Kenny only nodded. He glanced off, and his eyes caught something. A light- not the light like what they were in, a light like under a door, but... it was just a wall. Kenny pat Stan's arm, and the noirette looked at him before looking at the wall when Kenny pointed to it.

"What- ...what the hell? What's that?" Stan asked, and Kenny shook his head.

"It looks like... it's like, a door," the man said and walked up to the wall, and he touched it. It felt... sort of surreal. It didn't quite feel like the cement of the rest of the room.

Stan followed Kenny's example, and he stepped after the blonde to touch the wall. "Whoa, man."

"Is it like, a fucking door?" Kenny bumped his side against the wall, but nothing happened. Stan looked down at the floor, at the light, and he walked to the left end of it before pushing. The wall pushed open, sliding open to reveal a room with the light on, and Kenny shook his head in silence. It wasn't necessarily a room, it was a little spot where there were stairs. The stairs were wooden, and the light was a hanging lightbulb, lit.

"...Do we go in?" Stan asked, looking at Kenny, and the blonde sighed deeply.

"Do we have a choice? Let's see where it goes."

The two went inside and pushed the wall closed before going up the stairs. The stairs were creaky, and old, so the two hurried up, because they didn't know how loud the stairs were, or how stable. It took them to a hall of insulated wall, and Kenny knocked on it.

"We're in the wall," he said, and Stan looked at him.

"Huh?"

"We're on the other side of the wall; this is the inside of a structure. Where to, I don't know, but we're on the other side," Kenny spoke, and he started walking down the hall, Stan following. There was a part of the wall that Stan noted as looking like the door that led them to the stairs, and he grabbed Kenny while the blonde walked.

"Here, I think it's another fake wall," Stan said, and Kenny looked. Stan pushed it, and it came open, too, but instead of a small room with stairs, it looked like a full on hotel bedroom. The two looked at the room, debating to go in or not, and just when Stan was going to say something, the lights shut off again- blinding the two.

And then they could hear someone coming up the creaky stairs, fast.

Stan was still gripping Kenny after stopping him, and Kenny used the grip to find him and pull him into the room. The two pushed their backs against the opening, closing it, just before heavy footsteps passed them in the other side. They waited a long time before either of them spoke.

"How could we hear them? The rooms are soundproof," Stan whispered, and Kenny shook his head in the darkness.

"I-I don't know... Butters could hear me when I called to him from his room," Kenny recalled the time he woke Butters for breakfast, and the blonde had heard him through his door. "What if all the rooms aren't soundproof?" Kenny asked quietly, but Stan was quiet, and Kenny couldn't see him to see his expression.

Kenny used his phone to look around the room, and his eyes came into contact of a pastel pink shirt, folded neatly on the bed, and immediately, he knew whose it was.

"This is Butters's room," Kenny murmured, and Stan asked, "How do you know?"

Kenny walked to the shirt, and he picked it up, letting it roll unfolded, and it had a picture of a cupcake cat on it.

"Trust me, it's his," Kenny replied, and he used his light to look at Stan. "We're on our floor, and there are secret entrances into the rooms. Someone is trying to hurt us," he said, and Stan blinked and shook his head.

"Why would anyone do that? We're just _visiting_ for fuck's sake."

"I think this hotel was modified for someone to sneak into our rooms, and if Kyle and Kevin are mysteriously gone when they were left in their rooms-"

"Someone could have kidnapped them- that guy who ran up the steps; who turned off the lights," Stan said, and Kenny gave a single nod, because Stan was finally getting what he was trying to say.

The two turned their lights back on, and they left 117 to it's neighbor; 119.

Kyle's room was still unlocked, and the two got in easily. It was completely void of human life and was quiet. The two took to running their hands along the walls and pushing, looking for any sign of a secret door. Before either found a door, Stan found a peephole in the wall opposite of Butters's room; where there wasn't a room, rather, just a wall near the stairs. Inside the peephole, it was evident that there must be a secret room there, because Stan could make out the fuzzy silhouette of two beds, and the layout of a normal hotel room. If that was a room, it must have been 121, but whoever had modified the building must have covered it into just a normal wall- a hidden, secret room. Where someone could spy on Kyle.

"There's a peephole here- there's obviously a hidden room," Stan spoke, and Kenny went to him.

"Well, I'm not finding a door," the blonde replied.

"...Damn."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

  


Clyde decided it best that they run to the woods, because the car couldn’t fit in there. But then, whoever was in the car could get right out and follow them. Clyde still didn’t see anyone, though, not the person in the car, or the person in the woods who had attacked Bradley, and it was enough for him and Bebe to actually find an old storage shed; wooden, but they needed refuge for the timebeing.

He couldn’t pull Wendy’s jeans up over her wound- the giant gash ran deep, and her cut jeans were clotted in it, and everytime he tried to pull them apart, she screamed. So, he had taken her sweater, torn it into five pieces, and tied it over the wound heavily- as tightly as he could, and then he put his own coat over her for warmth. She was getting sickly now, already broken into a cold sweat, and she was almost feverish. Bebe was crying.

“What are we going to do, Clyde? We can’t stay here! He’ll find us! He’ll find us!” She cried, and Clyde shushed her. They had barely escaped the car chasing them into the woods, and they had found refuge, but they didn’t know if he already knew where this shed was or not.

“We’ll be alright here, we won’t stay too long- just enough for me to think.”

“ _Think_? Clyde, he’s out there trying to _kill_ us! We-”

“Shut up, Bebe!” Clyde snapped at the blonde, and she sobbed. He needed to think. He needed to think _now_. The brunette sighed sharply and shook his head. He stood up from Wendy’s sleeping side and put his hands behind his head, gripping his hair tightly as he looked around. The storage shed was empty, probably abandoned. It was rackety, too, and the night air was seeping through cracks and biting them. If that killer came in here, would they be able to defend themselves? There was a small closet for storing, but anyone would look in there for someone hiding. There were some old crates that he could hide the girls behind.

“Babe.” Clyde looked down to Bebe, the blonde crying in her hands at the whole situation. Clyde dropped down next to her to place a hand on her shoulder. “Bebe, look at me.” He held her firmly, watched her shake her head at him behind her hands. “I’m sorry for yelling, but will you look at me, please?” Bebe wiped her hands over her eyes and face to calm herself and dry her tears, but it only smeared her makeup. Clyde slipped his hand from her shoulder tobehind her neck, softly, and he put his forehead against hers.

“I think you and Wendy will be able to hide in here, okay? I’m going to find a way into the hotel, and I’m going to get us all back inside so we don’t freeze out here.” He said, and Bebe’s eyes were wide. Her face dropped and she sobbed again, and pulled herself from Clyde to cover her face again. She was terrified; for her, for Wendy, for _Clyde_. Clyde only pat her head, softly, before turning to lift up Wendy. He carried her to the crates and lay her behind, and he knew from experience that it was best to hang wounds up; it helped with the swelling and the pain. So, he propped her leg up as much as he could while keeping it out of view, hooking it on a bar of the little table in the supply room.

Clyde looked back to Bebe, but she was still hiding behind her hands.

“Bebe, I’ll be back quick, just stay hidden and stay quiet, okay?” He spoke to her while walking passed, and she gave a shaky exhale.

“I love you.” She managed from behind her hands, and Clyde glanced back to her. He responded with the same words before leaving her crying.

Outside, their footprints were still visible. Clyde brushed them away as he walked away from the shed and tried to find his way back to the hotel. He would need to remember where the shed was when he came back. Cartman, Kevin, and that guy in 120 were dead. Someone was hunting them, why? ...He had left Bradley.

The brunette trailed off to look for the blonde. Hopefully, he was alive. What would Clyde do with him, though? He couldn’t take him back to the shed, because three was a crowd. He could take him to the hotel, and try to find somewhere safe for him to rest: if the killer attacked Bradley, and then got in the car to run over Clyde and the girls, than he had to have left Bradley to do it.

Clyde had gotten as far as finding Cartman’s body, but it wasn’t enough. Bradley was gone, and there were no prints. The killer must cover his tracks. Either way, Clyde was safe the way to the hotel. The car that had been chasing them was abandoned, and the key was gone. There were no footprints, either. The fucker knew how to cover things, insanely well.

Clyde stopped dusting his prints, because his fingers were getting cold, and because he had stopped caring to at this point. The girls weren’t at any risk unless the guy came across them, and even then, Clyde was positive that he had hidden them at least a little good. Good enough to give him enough time to break into the hotel and get them all back in. Walking up to the hotel, Clyde snagged up a rock and chucked it at the glass doors, but they didn’t break.

“Son of a bitch.” He trailed up to grab the rock again, and he took to hammering it against the glass, trying to make it shatter, but it didn’t do anything. He moved on to a window, and after almost ten solid smacks against the glass, he had hammered a hole that he could fit his arm in, but he didn’t shatter anything more than that. What were the windows made of? The window didn’t have a lock, it was for pure decoration, and Clyde cursed to himself. How the fuck would they get in?

_Smack!_

The shovel hit Clyde hard in the head, enough to make his ears ring, and another hit from the spade made his vision blur, and he fell; a crumpled heap in the snow.

l.l

Sick and his friend had left Kyle and Butters, and Kyle was drugged again, but he hadn’t heard Butters in a long time.

“ _No! No!”_

“ _Shut him the fuck up, man!”_

Crack. _Butters screamed in agony, and Kyle only lay panicking, his heart racing and his head spinning- too much; Sick had given him too much of the drug. He couldn’t breathe, and his eyes were darting behind his blindfold, his fingers were numb. Sick’s friend was raping Butters, and Butters must have gotten his gag off, because he was screaming, loud and clear, and Sick’s friend was trying to make him shut up._

“Shut the fuck up!” _Sick’s friend yelled, and Butters screamed and sobbed, and there was another loud crack._

Since then, it had been silent in the room. Sick and his friend left, and Kyle was alone, maybe with Butters, maybe they took him; it was too quiet, and he was blindfolded, so he didn’t know. Sick had made him eat a chocolate bar, though, so he wasn’t dying anymore, but he was still uncomfortable from the drugs and the events of everything. But, in his dazed state, he could still hear the voices.

“ _There’s a peephole here- there’s obviously a hidden room.”_

“ _Well, I’m not finding a door.”_

“ _...Damn.”_

It was Kenny and Stan- he could hear them loud and clear, but he was too slurred to say anything in response. It didn’t matter, though. He could hear someone enter the room, and by the sound of it, it wasn’t Sick.

“The fuck are your friends doing, huh? Making a hell of a lot of problems.” Sick’s friend said, and Kyle whimpered when his hair was tugged. Sick’s friend, Monster, held Kyle’s hair for a long moment, and his voice was terrifying. It was something from Kyle’s childhood nightmares, and he knew it, but he was too drugged to know whose it was.

“Your boyfriend is out wrecking havoc on Clyde and those girls. I wouldn’t mind it too much myself, if I had that blonde. She’s a sexy one.” Monster said, and a warm but rough and calloused hand dragged across Kyle’s torso. Kyle whimpered again and shifted away, and Monster pulled him back by his hair. “That means your boyfriend isn’t here now.”

Monster’s hands left Kyle, and his knees were gripped; his thighs pulled open. Kyle cried and kicked at the monster, but he only laughed at him. Sick was still gone, apparently haunting Kyle’s friends. Friends? He didn’t have friends. He was alone. With the monster _on top_ of the bed.

Kyle tried to put his mind somewhere else, to think of _anything_ else, but the drugs were only making him even more terrified. _Am I going to die? Is he going to kill me? Did he kill Butters? Is Butters dead in the same room as me? On the same_ bed _as me?_

“You know how long I’ve waited for you?” Monster says to him, and it pulls him the slightest from his thoughts. How long? He knew the voice was familiar. He knew both of their voices were familiar. He wanted to go home. Monster was scarier than Sick. Monster had a poison in his voice, deathly, terrifying, _guilty_. His voice made him feel _guilty_. But for what?

Monster pulled Kyle’s thighs open roughly, and Kyle cried out when the muscles in his hip were pulled tight, sending gripping pain through his body. Monster was rough. Insanely rough. It felt like he was trying to break Kyle’s legs.

“ _No! No!”_

“ _Shut him the fuck up, man!”_

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Monster must have broken Butters’s legs.

Kyle tugged at his wrists, and he could hear the bed’s headboard rattle. That was it. He couldn’t feel his hands, and his fingers felt like they had rotted off. He felt cold, now, and he knew he must be getting sick. Or dying. Did he have frost bite? Was he given poison? Was he rotting? Did his hands fall off?

Monster ran a hand across Kyle’s torso, and the redhead whimpered and tried to curl up to protect himself, but Monster was between his legs, pinning them open, blocking them with his thick frame.

“You know, I don’t trust you. Hold on.” Monster leaned over Kyle, and the bed shifted, and he grabbed something from near the bed, and it made Kyle cry because he knew that it was a shot.Why drug him so much? Why not just get it over with? His arms and neck burned from the needles, and he was still decently drugged. Why? Why? _Why?_

“I made this one just for you.” Monter whispered into Kyle’s ear, and there was the prick of a needle in Kyle’s neck. Kyle cried and tried to shift away, and Monster grabbed him by his hair, tight, with his other hand. Kyle sobbed and screamed, but his voice sounded warbled to himself, so he didn’t know if he was really even screaming or not. Monster pushed the needle’s plunge, and the liquid started filling Kyle’s throat, leaving a thick, heavy feeling traveling his veins that caused the most excruciating pain. But then it stopped, and Monster cursed and tore the needle from Kyle’s neck.

He pushed off of Kyle and slipped off of the bed, and Kyle just writhed on the mattress in pain. The lights were on again. Kyle couldn’t tell because of his blindfold, but Monster could see just fine, and it was starting to piss him off.

“Sorry Kyle, you’ll have to wait.” He said, and there was a hard pat to Kyle’s left knee.

Stan had turned on the lights. He was stronger than Kenny, more built, so he chose to be the source of the trap. He had turned the lights back on and hidden behind a shelf with a syringe in each hand. He would distract the guy, while Kenny found a way into the hidden room. _Fuck_ what had they gotten themselves into.

The hidden doorway was pushed open quick, and a large man in a hoodie stomped his way to the fuse box. Stan watched him stare at it, probably thinking of something to do. He couldn’t tell who it was, though; the hood was flipped up, and Stan’s view was only of his side and back. He could see what he was doing, though.

The man had turned from the fuze box and stalked off to a box. He reached inside and pulled out a half sized sludge hammer, and Stan swallowed dryly. _Fuck_. There was no way he could take him on. That guy looked like a fucking _wrestler_ ; he was big all around, not like Cartman; like he did weights every fucking day. No, Stan couldn’t take him. He’d just have to do some cat and mouse shit- anything to keep him distracted, but he couldnt’ fight him. Not when he had that fucking hammer, anyway.

The guy trailed back to the fuse box, and he brought the hammer up and down quick, too quick for Stan to register. The lights were off again, after a loud shatter. Stan was blinded.

He could hear the footsteps, though, and he could hear the secret door open. He couldn’t let him find Kenny, but he couldn’t face him and come out unscathed.

The noirette breathed deep and threw a syringe from the shelf, and it hit a wall with a shatter, and the noises of the other man stopped. There was nothing after that, for a long, heartwrenching moment. A long enough time for Stan to almost throw the other syringe, but then there was noise. A loud, giant shatter, and then a laugh.

“Where you hiding at? Huh? You know, you’re making shit hella difficult for me. Where the _fuck are you hiding_!” There was another giant sound of destruction, and Stan shut his mouth tight. This guy would kill him.

There was another laugh. “Who are you? Kenny? Stan? Hopefully. I’m gonna make you wish you were never born. Fuck up my life...” There was a shatter near Stan, and he moved further behind the shelf. He needed to get away.

The guy had left the secret door open! If Stan could distract him from the door, he could run out. He could try and lock him inside. That wouldn’t work. The door into the basement had been broken open by him and Kenny. It would at least give Stan time to help Kenny. The guy would have to take the stairs, and he didn’t look like too fast a person. Stan toed off his shoes and scoot them to the side. He would be quiter in his socks. He threw the syringe where thought farthest from the secret enterance, and the man’s footsteps sounded loud and quick after it, so Stan slid out from the shelf and ran for the door.

The footsteps paused, and Stan took it as a sign to run faster, so he dived through the fake wall and slammed his back against it to shut it. Immediately after, there was a slam against the wall from the other side. Stan kept himself pressed against it, keeping it shut the best he could through three more hard slams, until there were no more. That was probably his chance to run away to room 113; Clyde and Bebe’s, a room that had no secret enterances for whatever reason. It was where Stan and Kenny would meet.

l.l

Through the brief time that the lights were on again, Kenny had found a way into the secret room he and Stan had labeled 121. Not really, necessarily. Rather, he had found a vent that he pulled off and crawled through, and he made it into the secret 121. The lights were off, now, though, so he had to turn on his flashlight again.

The room was big and empty. It looked slept in, though, and there were empty beer cans and dirty dishes strung about. There were needles, too. And newspaper articles. And homemade video tapes. What sort of room was this? No, what sort of _person_ stayed in this room? It looked disgusting. Not gross from filth, but gross from it’s _nature_. It gave off a sick feeling. A feeling of dread and despair. Kenny glanced around the room and grimaced at it all.

Somethow, with the lights and service shut off, there was a TV playing. It’s volume was off, but it was Kyle. It was Kyle, sleeping in his room, so it must have been pre recorded. Kenny walked to the TV to shut it off, and he kept looking in the room.

“Kyle? You in here?” He called out, quietly, to not be heard, but to be heard. Butters and Cartman were still missing, too. And Kevin.

There was no noise. No sound of anything. Kenny checked the rest of the room, but he didn’t hear or see _anything_. Not until he got to the bathroom. There was blood in the bathtub, and the toilet looked rotten. Now that Kenny thought about it, the whole room of 121 looked old. The walls were peeling. There were heavy stains on the walls from nicotine blood, but the room didn’t smell like fresh smoke. How old was this room?

Beyond the bathtub, there was a a hole in the wall. A giant hole in the wall, that looked self made. Kenny slipped inside.

There was an immediate stench that smacked him, and he gagged and had to cover his mouth and nose. He flashed his light around to see what was going on. The room looked worse than beyond the hole- _room_. It was a full, nother room. It was in disgusting shape, though. Kenny didn’t get to look too good, though, because he found Kyle, laying still on a ratty mattress, nude. Kenny ran to him.

“Kyle! Kyle, are you okay? What the _fuck_?”

Kyle’s hands were bound, _purple_ , and he was marred in bruises and marks, like bites. There were scratches, too. And needle holes. A bunch of needle holes, soaking his arms. There were a few marks on his throat, and he was completely still. He was blindfolded.

Kenny looked around for something to cut the binds with, and it didn’t take long at all to find a pair of rusty scissors that he used to saw through the rope. Kyle’s hands fell against the bed, deep marks in his wrists from the tight embeddings, but he didn’t move or speak. He wasn’t gagged, but he wasn’t making any noise. Kenny put his ear to Kyle’s mouth to listen for breaths, and he could hear some small jagged ones, slow.

“Come on, come on, Kyle, I’m here.” Kenny pulled off the blindfold and shook his head bitterly. Kyle’s eyes were shut and they looked black. His whole face was pale. Kenny pulled off his parka and slipped it onto the redhead, zipping it shut. He pulled Kyle to the edge of the mattress and picked him up, sparing a last glance around the room.

“Okay... okay...” He needed to find a better way out of there. There _had_ to be another way anyway; whoever had done this probably wasn’t crawling through a vent the whole time. He looked at Kyle’s face. “Kyle, can you hear me? Wake up, come on.” He bounced Kyle some while walking through the room. There was nothing else really to find, so he took to trying to find a way out. Back in the first room, there was a door to leave, but instead of a doorknob, there was a bolt and lock, so Kenny slid it down and across, unlocking it, and he pushed the door open. Peering outside, it was a way to the hallway. If it was locked from the inside, though, then there must still be other ways into the room.

“Okay.” Kenny held Kyle close to his chest, tight, and he took him to room 113. It was unlocked and Kenny carried Kyle inside. He walked to lay Kyle on one of the beds, and he turned back to the door to lock it before going back to Kyle, but then he unlocked it again, because the room was soundproof, and he wouldn’t be able to hear Stan knocking when he came. His friend wasn’t back yet.

Kenny started going through Clyde’s luggage, and he knew the clothes would be too big for Kyle, but he needed to get his friend dressed and warm, because he looked like a corpse. Kenny settled for some sweats and a hoodie that he knew would be big and warm because Clyde was a big guy, and he tepped back to Kyle, perching on the edge of the bed beside the redhead, putting the clothes beside him on the bed.

“Kyle, wake up.” The blonde nudged the redhead, but his eyes didn’t open, and he breathing was still ragged. Kyle needed help _now_. Kenny hopped up from the bed and went looking through Clyde and Bebe’s food. It took a while, but he eventually found some sugar packets, and he snagged a cup to pour water into, and he added the sugar to that, stirring it with a spoon. Then he left back to Kyle and propped him up some to drip the sugar water into his mouth.

“Come on... come on...” He whispered to himself, watching Kyle’s eyes soaked in dark grey. He couldn’t die. If Kyle died, Kenny would have to spend his life hating himself, because this whole trip was supposed to be something to make him happy. What had gone wrong? This was _not_ their fault. They didn’t _plan_ something like this to happen. They just wanted to have fun with their friends again.

Kyle swallowed and his eyes moved, but they didn’t open. It was a good sign, though. Kenny lay him back down and put the cup on the floor, and he moved on to the clothes. He unzipped his parka and put it to the side, and he slipped the hoodie on over Kyle’s head and down his torso. He looked so... _abused_. Who the fuck had done this? Kenny grabbed the sweats and started slipping them up Kyle’s legs, and he almost cried when he saw the blood. There was dry, crusted blood on Kyle’s inner thighs, and there was another dry substance that he saw and knew what was, so he pulled his hands away from the redhead and put his face in them.

_No way. No... Did we do this? We didn’t do this- it wasn’t us; how the fuck did all of this happen?_

He willed himself from the bed and took to the sink again, grabbing papertowels and drenching them in soap and hot water. He rung them and brought them back to Kyle, and he started wiping at the mess, looking elsewhere. He _couldn’t_ look elsewhere- it all brought him back to his friend, and he would see a new mark like a cut, or a bruise, and it would make him feel so guilty that he couldn’t look away. He got rid of the mess after a bit, though, and pulled the sweats up, pulling the draw strings tight to keep them on. There was a whimper from Kyle in his sleep.

The bedroom door slammed open and it made Kenny jump, but he stilled because it was only Stan. Stan shut the door behind him and locked it, eyes wild. Kenny furrowed his eyebrows and motioned.

“What-”

“Shh!” Stan put a finger to his lips, and Kenny shut his mouth, still watching the noirette. He was sweating. He stayed against the door for a long moment before walking to Kenny and Kyle, and Kenny lowered his voice. “I found Kyle in that room, he’s not in good shape.” He murmured, and Stan looked passed him to Kyle. His eyes got wide and he dropped to his knees beside the bed, but Kenny wouldn’t let him touch Kyle.

“We’ll worry about Kyle later. What happened?” Kenny asked Stan, because he didn’t want to talk about Kyle or what happened to him _ever_. Stan looked like he wanted to press the subject, but he didn’t.

“The guy broke the fusebox. He has a fucking sludgehammer, man, and he’s trying to find me. We have to stay in here, and we have to stay fucking quiet.” Stan breathed, and Kenny gave a single nod, glancing back to Kyle’s face.

“What the fuck did he do to him?” Stan whispered, sharp, demanding an answer. Kenny looked to the floor.

“Drugged him. A lot. He’s out because of it, but his blood sugar must be low, too.” He replied quietly and looked at Kyle’s purple hands. They were slowly regaining color, but he’d be cold when he came to. Stan shook his head. “That’s fucked up, man. Clyde better have gotten help by now.” Kenny nodded at that, because they _did_ need help.

Stan gave a sudden gasp that made Kenny scared, but when he looked at his friend, he was pointing at him.

“That fucker knew our names- mine and yours.” He said quickly, and Kenny blinked and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Yeah, man, he knows our names, and he knew it was one of us in the basement when I was distracting him.”

“...I have to find Butters. Bradley said Kevin was dead, okay, he probably is. We don’t need to help Cartman, but I’ve got to find Butters. He’s like my fucking brother, man, I’ve gotta go.” Kenny stood from the bed and Stan gawked at him. The noirette scoffed and grabbed his friend’s wrist.

“Dude, did you _not_ hear me? He has a sludgehammer, and he’s _big_.”

“So what, I leave a big guy with a hammer to kill Butters? That’s not me, man.” Kenny pulled his wrist free and glanced at Kyle. He needed to find Butters, but he didn’t want to leave Kyle alone. He felt the utmost guilt of leaving him. He needed to be beside him when he woke up, he needed to be with him when he was spouting nonsense of what had happened to him, he couldn’t leave him with Stan, because he felt like if he wasn’t there, something would happen. Stan is still human, he could probably never kill someone.

“I’ll go, Kenny.”

Stan’s voice was so foreign that Kenny didn’t hear him and just kept watching Kyle, but the words eventually registered, and he looked at Stan.

“What?”

“I’ll go, man. I can hide from him, I’ve seen him, I know what kind of guy he is; I’ll go. If I die, Wendy’ll kill me, so I’ll play it all safe and just look for him. Where did you find Kyle?”

“I-in that room, there’s a vent to it from Kyle’s room, and there’s a secret door to it in the hall, but I don’t think you can use it to get in. Butters isn’t in there, you’ll have to look somewhere else.” Kenny shook his head and motioned off. “You can’t go, Stan, I-”

“Forget it, dude, I’ll be back in less than thirty minutes. I won’t leave this floor; if I don’t come back, take Kyle and leave for help.” Stan stood from the floor, and Kenny just watched him, wanting to protest, but nothing else came from him. There was a startling sob from Kyle, but he was still asleep when Kenny looked at him, and he looked back to Stan, the noirette’s blue eyes staring at him.

“I’ll be back.” Stan said, and Kenny stayed silent. He gave a little nod, and Stan smiled. “You guys are the brains, I’ve always been the brauns.” He said lightly, and it made Kenny give a smile, but it hurt himself, and Stan gave Kenny a pat on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Kenny looked at Kyle again, and the redhead was breathing quick, eyebrows knitted together. He slowly sat back on the bed and wiped Kyle’s hair from his forehead, running his thumb softly over Kyle’s eyebrow bone, and Kyle’s breathing calmed after a moment.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my friend, I really love my friend- their beta skills are so amazing and badass, I love my story again.

**Chapter Ten**

 

Kenny had Kyle drink more sugar water every so often, and he made sure to keep him covered up double for warmth, because he looked insanely ill. He checked his phone for service, but it was still out. He was literally praying to God for Clyde to have gotten help already. 

Stan had been gone for a while already, and at first, Kyle didn't seem to be anywhere near waking up. Gradually, though, he started to give little murmurs in his sleep, or a little fidget. It had been a while, but when Kenny started cleaning Kyle’s face with a hot rag, he decided that Kyle probably wasn't going to wake up in time enough for him to help Stan. He couldn’t sit here while Stan was out in danger, but he couldn’t leave Kyle alone.

“ Kyle, wake up. Please wake up.”

Kenny tapped the redhead’s damp cheeks lightly, because he didn’t want to hurt him, but he  _ needed _ him to wake up. What had happened in that room? What did they give Kyle? Did they take Butters, too, or was he somewhere safe and hiding?

How long did they have Kyle?

Kenny had harbored feelings for Kyle since early highschool. He had imagined what he would look like, how Kyle would smile at him in the early mornings- what it would be like to love him, and for Kyle to love him back. 

All of those thoughts now, though, made him feel incredibly silly and disgusting. He felt guilty for all of it when he looked at Kyle’s pale face. How could he think things like that? How could he be that kind of person? When all of this was over, he would leave again. He would have to disappear again. There was no way he would ever be able to face Kyle. Stan could take care of him. Stan would get Kyle help, and he would help him get better, but Kenny couldn’t do it. He would have to leave.

Kyle’s eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open his eyes, and Kenny shook his head bitterly to himself. What a terrible, messed up trip. What a terrible, messed up event. Poor Kyle. Poor Kyle? No,  _ I’m sorry Kyle _ was more like it.

“ I’m sorry.” Kenny brushed his hand over Kyle’s hair lightly. He was immensely sorry. Would Kyle ever wake up again? Kenny knew he would, but he was just too worried, and his mind was full of doubts.

Whoever had done this knew Kenny and Stan. That guy from 120 was dead, and there was no way Cartman could pull any of this off. Maybe it was him, though. Maybe that’s where he was, tormenting them all. No, Cartman wasn’t that kind of guy. He wasn’t a murderer. He couldn’t kill that guy and Kevin; it wasn’t in his nature. At least, to pull it off personally. God, Kenny wished Kyle would wake up.

l.l

Bebe lay close to Wendy, her arms tight around her friend, a hand over the noirette’s mouth. She had been hearing noises outside, and she didn’t want Wendy to wake up and say anything or cry. The noise sounded weird, and Bebe couldn’t place it, but she wasn’t exactly trying to. She was cold and scared and Wendy felt like a frozen corpse in her arms. The hiding spot behind the crates was good and compacted, but there was a slight crack in the wooden wall behind them that was letting in a steady breeze of the night. Bebe was freezing and freaking out.

_ What the fuck is that noise? _

It was a steady sound, something that took a break every few moments, like something being blown and tapping something else. It hadn’t started until maybe ten minutes ago. It made Bebe think back to South Park Elementary, when the flagpole had a repeating clank because of the chilly air that blew its rings against the pole.

The noise outside was steady, precise, and alluring, and it was drawing her in to investigate the more it went on. She wanted to make sure that they were still safe, or to check if it was maybe Clyde. Bebe’s phone had died a long time ago, but she knew that it had taken longer than it should have for Clyde to return, and he still wasn’t back.

Bebe waited almost another ten minutes to get up, listening to that repeating sound. If she could hear it, then so could that psycho out there, and she didn’t want him to find them before Clyde got back.

Wendy was out cold, so Bebe hugged her for a moment longer, because she was petrified, and then got up from the hiding spot to check on the noise when she felt strong enough to. There was a door to the shed, so Bebe pushed it open just a bit to peek out for danger. There were only snow and trees outside, though.

She walked outside, arms held around herself for better warmth. The sound was louder out here, and she went out to search for the source of it. A little ways away, there was a pole in the ground, a medium sized one for whatever reason, but there was a set of keys hanging on it, tapping it when the wind blew them. She walked to it to grab the cold keys, and she knit her eyebrows together. It was a set of car keys, with a charm that said they were Kevin’s. She held them tight and looked around, but she still didn’t see anything else. She turned and went back to the shed, but there were footprints going  _ inside _ . Was Clyde back?

“ Clyde?” She stepped back inside the shed to look around for him, but she didn’t see him. She swallowed hard and looked around the empty room until she saw the closet. The door was shut, but if Clyde wasn’t back yet, then it must be the psycho, and he must be hiding in the closet.

Bebe walked to the closet, pocketing the keys. She walked slowly, terrorized, to the door. She paused in front of it, contemplating heavily to open it or not, or to just go and hide with Wendy again, but she finally willed herself to grab the doorknob and pull the door open.

Emptiness. It was empty.

Arms wrapped around Bebe, one around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and the other around her throat. Bebe started screaming immediately, because she could see a blade; a blade going for her throat.

“ No! No!” Bebe screamed and writhed in the grip, and she kicked her foot back and hit a leg, and the arms let go of her. She spun around and bolted out of the shed, keeping her gaze ahead of her, too scared to look back.

The door. He must have been hiding behind the shed door. He must not know where Wendy was- Wendy was still safe. Bebe didn’t want to die, though, so she kept running in the woods, because she didn’t know where to go, but now she had the guy chasing her, and she didn’t want him to catch up.

She could hear him running after her in the snow. She didn’t know where to run to, where was safe or not, and she surely didn’t know her way around the woods. Did the guy?

She had to lose him. How to lose him, how to lose him- Bebe glanced back at him to see how close he was, but he was gone, and she skidded in the snow to look around, her shoes sending clouds of snow spattering around her. Where did he go?

She breathed deep, circling around herself, scanning her surroundings. It was only a forest of snowy trees.

“ Fuck  _ fuck _ .” She reached up to grip her hair tight.  _ Where the hell are you Clyde? _ Bebe felt hot from distress, and she was utterly lost on what to do. She was  _ lost _ . She couldn’t see the shed anymore. She would just have to run somewhere, anywhere. She started running again, in another direction.

She passed by a tree and something swung out from behind it- probably a branch, almost catching her in the head but she barely managed to duck under with a terrified scream. She bolted faster passed the tree and there was an agitated yell behind her, but she didn’t stop to dwell- she kept running, the freak in close pursuit. Whoever the fucker was, he wasn’t fast, but he was able to keep close in distance, so he must have been thin to be able to keep up.

“ _ Bitch _ !” Her pursuer yelled at her, and she shook her head while running, too distraught to process the voice.

“ Leave me alone!” Bebe screamed in retaliation, and the branch was thrown, hitting her in the back, forcing her to stumble but she kept her balance and ran. The stumble slowed her, though, and her pursuer lunged forward, tackling her, slamming her into the snow. The stabs were quick in her back, felt like needles slipping into her skin through her jacket, and all she could do was scream and shriek and thrash in the snow, snow coating her face in bitter nips of ice.

Somehow, she managed to roll in the snow under her attacker, onto her back- maybe he let her. She raised her hands above her, sobbing, screaming; the blade stabbing into her hands and wrists.

“ P-lease, please st-op!” She cried. It was cold outside, and her body was tingling from adrenaline that was failing to keep her safe. She couldn’t get him off of her, couldn’t see from the tears welled in her eyes.

There was a deep stab into her chest, in the right side, void of her heart, and she sobbed loudly.

“Why?” the attacker asked bitterly, burying his knife deep into her chest, the blade carving into her nerves and flesh and muscle, making the other wounds in her body throb as the pain of them started waking up.

“ Please... I’m p-preg-nant...” Bebe spoke, a mere pitiful whimpered whisper as she breathed deeply in the snow.

The knife was pulled from her and it didn’t come back into contact of her skin. It didn’t assault her anymore, contemplated. Bebe wiped a bloody hand over her eyes to clear them, tears stinging a stab wound in her hand but feeling like nothing compared to the wound in her chest. She looked up at her attacker with clear eyes, shuddering at the coldness of the outdoors, teeth chattering from the chill of blood leaving her and turning cold on her skin from the snow. She could see her attacker’s face. She could see into his hood, see his  _ face _ , and a big sob ripped through her body. Her tears dripped into her ears and her heart hurt from her crying, her hands burned.

Her attacker didn’t move, kept his knife held over her, raised over her crippled form.

“ Please... C-”

The blade slammed down, slipped into her chest, buried itself deep against her layers- slipped back out and stabbed into her again, and again and again and again and  _ again _ .

l.l

Stan was surrounded by terminal fear. He had been curious about the room 111, which was some chick’s room whom Kenny had slept with. Her name was Carla, if he remembered right, and her room was unlocked when he tried the door. Finding her dead inside wasn’t as scary as it should have been. No, the real horror was when Stan saw the wall opening and had to quickly hide in the closet. The real horror was Kevin’s corpse pressed against him in the closet. His body was no longer in rigor mortis and was limp against him, stinking like rotten meat." Stan tried to shift to get the corpse off of him, but it only made the position more awkward and grotesque.

Through the crack in the closet’s door, Stan could see the big guy from the basement. He had entered through the hidden door and walked further into the room, passed Carla’s corpse with a bludgeoned face and over to the couch of the room. 

He dropped down onto it, plopped against the cushions, and brought up his mud stained boots to rest on the coffee table. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cellphone, a flip phone that looked cheaper than shit. Stan pulled out his own phone to look at the service, but there were still no bars. It was still helpless. The guy, though, flipped his phone open and put it to his ear.

“ Yeah?” he sounded, and Stan put his own phone back up so he wouldn’t be seen. Each movement made Kevin’s presence more known, his limp limbs grazing Stan with every deep breath.

“ Oh, damn. Bebe was one hot piece of ass, I’ll tell ya that. No, Wendy? Haven’t seen her. I do have either Kenny or Stan in here making me run fucking laps down the halls.” The man gave a laugh, something that sounded  _ ill _ , and Stan just watched him and listened.

Wendy? Who the hell was this guy talking to? Bebe? What the hell were they talking about? Wendy and Bebe were supposed to be safe with Clyde and Bradley- what the fuck had happened?

“ Hey, I uh, got some bad news. Like, you’re gonna shit.” There was a silence after that, the guy listening to whoever was on the other side of the phone, though Stan couldn’t hear.

“ Alright, well, shit man, my fucking bad. Anyway, you’re gonna shit. One of the guys got Kyle.” Another long silence, though this time, Stan could hear the voice- only a sharp voice yelling into the speaker, he couldn’t distinguish the words.

“ ...I still got Butters. Either way, Kenny and Stan are still out. They’re pussies; once I get them, I’ll kill ‘em. Unless you want to kill Stan. No? Alright, sweet, man. Sorry ‘bout Kyle. I’ll bet they have him nice and safe, though, so you don’t have to worry. Alright, see ya.”

The guy flipped his phone shut and put it back into his coat pocket. Then he sat there like that for a long moment, watching the table, Stan watching him through the closet, two bodies in the room. The guy gave a deep, guttural sigh and stood up from the couch. He turned his back to the closet, reached up and  _ pulled down his hood _ . Stan couldn’t see who he was, but he could see that he had blonde hair, short cut. He started pulling off his coat, slipping it off of his shoulders after a long  _ zip _ , slipping it down his back and dropping it onto the couch. Then he walked to Carla’s corpse of a smashed in face and he knelt over her, reached down to grab and toy with her low cut shirt.

“ Yeah... I’m gonna have some fun with you.” The man said in some disgusting tone. His muscley arms were full of tattoos, so was his neck to some degree. He glanced up for whatever reason, and Stan caught his face. The most utter terror filled through Stan and his breathing hitched.

Trent Boyett. It was Trent Boyett.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Clyde was cold.  _ Tremendously _ cold. His head throbbed heavily, and he groaned and tried to reach up to touch it, but his arm was numb with sleep; it fucking hurt. His throat felt thick and his hands were so cold that he couldn’t bend his fingers.

He had been hanging upside down for who knows how long.

He twisted some and grimaced at the pins of his nerves. He glanced up to see what predicament he was in.

He was tied around the ankles, dangling from a noose that attached to a hook in the ceiling. His throat hurt because his veins had filled with blood, and his vision was hazy from the heavy pulsing in his temples.

“ _ Fu-ck me... _ ” he whispered to himself, regretting it when it made his throat hurt more. The rope holding him looked fairly old, thin and ratty. He was surprised it hadn’t snapped yet and dropped him to a broken neck. Clyde was alive for whatever reason, and he figured the best way to get down was to try and break the rope.

_ Cre-ak, cre-ak _ . He rocked his body some, back and forth. The rope was barely sticking together, and Clyde was slowly working it apart, forcing it to start tearing a bit above halfway.

_ Cre-ak, cre-ak- SNAP _ !

Clyde fell too fast for any type of scream or yell to emit, and he slammed into the floor hard on his back, the impact leaving him gasping and gulping for air. He managed to roll onto his side and cough, breaths loud in whatever room he was in.

No, not a room. A shed. Another shed like the one he’d left the girls in, but this one was different. He could tell from the new layout and lack of boxes and crates.

His legs were asleep and he had to wait a long while before moving, groaning and cursing to himself as he woke up his body. He was even colder without his jacket, which he remembered he’d given to Wendy, leaving him in just his short sleeve shirt. He’d thought that he wouldn’t be gone too long. He’d been wrong though, and now he was freezing.

He managed to stand on shaky legs, and he breathed deeply, getting a hold of himself.  _ Alright, Clyde, alright _ .

The brunette willed himself to leave the shed, holding his hands against his torso to try and heat himself while his teeth chattered.

The layout outside was different this time. He could see the back of the hotel, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too close, but he wasn’t devastatingly far, either. If he could just make it there, he could branch off and check on the girls.

l.l

Wendy had woken up alone and freezing.

Bebe and Clyde were gone, and that could mean anything, but for Wendy, it just meant that she had to do everything herself. Like get up.

She reached down her body with her shivering, white hands and gripped her leg that was propped up on a box. She could lay here and wait for help to come, but she would freeze before anyone reached her; that, or the killer would find her first.

Bleeding out wasn’t exactly a possibility anymore, because the cold had made a layer of frost over her wound that coagulated the blood into a thin, moist scab. It didn’t mean that she would be able to walk very well, though.

The noirette managed to get up with the help of the crates, stifling cries and trying not to pass out at the feeling of her blood rushing back to her leg, making it throb heavily and swell.

Walking wasn’t a possibility. Wendy knelt back to her hands and knees and crawled from behind the boxes and crates to the open front door that had made the shed at least ten degrees colder than it was outside.

Since her wound was on her calf, crawling was the best alternative; it lightened the pulsing throbs, too.

Once she got outside, she gathered snow into her palms and craned back, dumping it over and into her wound, gently patting it into the deep crevice where the torn ligaments and light bone were visible.

It was the most excruciating pain. She hadn’t stopped crying, even in her sleep, and her nose was stuffed and runny, red like her frostbitten cheeks.

She pulled Clyde’s jacket sleeves over her hands to make a barrier between them and the snow, and she continued crawling through the snow and trees. She hadn’t the slightest idea where she was or how to get to the hotel, but eventually she found a set of stray footprints and crawled after them.

She followed them out of the trees, and eventually, she came into view of the hotel.

The parking lot looked the same as before; her car was upside down from when the killer had rammed into it, and the other cars in the lot were still in their spots, unharmed and uncared for.

“Wendy.” A hand grabbed Wendy’s shoulder, and she gasped and looked back, unable to do anything if it was the killer.

It was Clyde though, his teeth chattering and his arms marred with goosebumps.

“W-where’s B-B-Bebe?” he asked, glancing at the snow around them. Wendy just blinked, cleared her throat, and gave a big sniff.

“I-I don’t know, I woke up a-alone,” she sniffed again to a clogged nose. Clyde gave a shaky, jittery sigh, and knelt down beside her.

“I-i-it took s-so long getting he-re.” He offered a twitching smile, and Wendy watched him. There was nothing uplifting about anything going on here, and him trying to lighten things wasn’t exactly working for her. He did hold out his shaking hands to her, though. She tried moving so that he could help her up, but he instead took her up into his arms, his limbs creaking with the cold staining them. They were both in need of warmth. Wendy’s knees had become numb from the snow.

“T-these footprints,” Wendy remarked quietly, and Clyde nodded. Whose were they?

Clyde carried Wendy to the hotel after the footprints and glanced off to the parked cars. They could sit in one and try to get warm, but they could also get caught, just like before. Clyde really needed to drop Wendy off somewhere so that he could find Bebe. If he got them inside, he could probably find Stan and Kenny and tell them what all had happened.

Clyde walked Wendy to the hotel. Once there, he sat her down on the snow, bending her legs just slightly so that she wouldn't touch her wound to anything.

“Stay here,” he said to her, and she nodded quickly. Clyde left her at the front of the hotel, near the window he tried cracking earlier, and then he followed the footprints in the snow to the front door, where they disappeared inside. He put his hand on to the door handle, and it turned. Then he gave a light push, and it opened.

Wendy watched Clyde peek inside the hotel before looking at  her.

“It's unlocked,” he said, glancing past her with silent hope that Bebe would be there. She wasn't, though, and Wendy sniffed hard, drawing his eyes back to her.

“What d-does that mean?” she asked. Clyde shook his head and went to her, lifting her up again.

“I guess we g-go inside. F-find a place to hide or find the g-guys. Maybe they w-were Bebe's footprints,” he murmured, held Wendy close to him. She gave a little nod and put her arms around his neck, her cold fingers freezing his skin.

Clyde carried her inside the hotel; it didn't have any heaters on, but its natural warmth gave their bodies ripples of pleasurable shivers as the building's breath crawled over them.

The footprints stopped outside in the snow, leaving no traces to follow in the lobby. Clyde breathed deeply. “Bebe!” he called, walking further inside with Wendy. Wendy shifted in his arms to grip him better as she looked around the lobby.

“M-maybe upstairs?” she spoke and he nodded solemnly.

“...Yeah.”

Hopefully Bebe didn't go looking for him. Maybe she would see Clyde’s footprints and find them in the building. Maybe  _ they _ had followed  _ her _ footprints into the hotel.

Wendy guided them up the stairs with a light, Clyde waking slowly with her to keep her legs from swaying too much and to help the pain soften. He turned down the corridor of their friends’ rooms, into the hallway, and started for his and Bebe's room.

“I'll drop you off in my room, then look for the others,” he said, their bodies regaining their warmth from being indoors.

Wendy nodded while clutching him, and he walked her down the hall to room 113. She tried the doorknob and furrowed her eyebrows, clearing her throat of the cold settling there. “It's locked,” she spoke and Clyde sighed.

“It shouldn't be, but the key is in my coat pocket, go ahead and grab it.”

Wendy dug in the coat's big pockets for the key and pulled it out, sticking it into the lock. Maybe that meant Bebe was inside.

She turned it in the lock and gripped the doorknob, twisting it when the mechanisms clicked. Then she pushed the door open, and inside was Kyle, lying on one of the beds- alone and asleep.

“Well fuck,  _ someone _ found him,” Clyde muttered and stepped inside the room with Wendy. “Bebe, you in here? Babe!”

The bathroom door opened, and Kenny came out, eyes sharp.

“Get in here and shut the damn door! Hurry up!” The blonde rushed over to push the door shut behind the two, and Clyde looked at him.

“What? What’s your problem?” The brunette nodded to Kenny, and the other man huffed and motioned off to the door.

“We found Kyle, in some freak’s secret room. Stan’s out looking for Butters, and the freak has a sledgehammer, so we’re trying to hide in here.” Kenny sighed and looked to two over. He was going to question as to why Clyde was carrying Wendy, but then he noticed the blood that coated her, and the pink that dripped from some sort of wound on her leg; it was melting snow, stained with her blood. “What happened? Wait, where are Bebe and Bradley? Did you guys get attacked?”

“They cut the cars off and tried running us over! Bebe’s gone, so is Bradley,” Wendy spoke, and Clyde sighed heavily.

“So is Cartman; me and Bradley found him earlier. Bebe’s lost, we can’t find her. Here, Kenny, I’ve got to look for her- she hasn’t come here?” Clyde asked and Kenny shook his head.

“No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Alright, well, I’ve got to find her. Help Wendy out, yeah?” Clyde walked to the bed with Wendy but saw that it was occupied with a beaten-looking Kyle, so he shook his head with a click of his tongue and went to lay Wendy down on the other bed, the noirette wincing when the blanket brushed her wound. He shut his eyes and breathed.

_ What a fucked up trip. What a  _ very  _ fucked trip.  _ Fuck.

Kenny followed the two and perched on the bed beside Wendy. “Clyde, while you’re out for Bebe, you should look for a first-aid kit somewhere, maybe the Manager’s office,” he spoke and Clyde looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll look around.” Clyde glanced over at Kyle but didn’t ask about him, because he frankly didn’t want to know at the moment. Wendy touched his arm and he glanced down to her.

“Be careful when looking for Bebe, okay? We don’t know where the guy is,” she said softly and Clyde nodded.

“Yeah.”

Kenny gave a little motion around the room and cleared his throat. “I’ll watch Wendy and Kyle. Stan shouldn’t be out too long, he’s just looking for Butters,” he said, and Wendy sighed.

“He’s out there with that guy?”

“Yeah, but… I’m sure he’s okay?” Kenny’s voice was softer, and Wendy huffed and shook her head before glancing down to her wounded leg. She still needed some proper dressings for it, and she looked up to Clyde to see him looking at it too.

He turned from Kenny and Wendy to his and Bebe’s luggage, and he pulled out a sweater to wear, because he didn’t want to take his coat back from Wendy.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll find a first aid kit first, and then look for Bebe,” he said before leaving, not looking at them.

1.1

Stan waited almost a whole hour in the closet with Kevin's corpse, watching the horror display that Tent Boyett put on, as he made Carla's face into a mere mush puddle on the floor with his hammer. Then he stopped, pulled out his phone to look at it- an incoming text, maybe?

The sick blonde pushed off of Carla's body, stood up and tucked himself back into his pants with a low, guttural sigh.

He mumbled something to himself, something lost in translation to Stan because Stan was human- that thing on the other side of the closet wasn’t. It was nothing close to being human.

Almost to prove the point, the beast laughed low to himself, like he’d remembered something funny.

There was nothing funny.

Stan watched Trent as he redressed, pulled his hood back over his head and walked to the secret entrance. He opened the wall and stepped through, shutting it after himself.

_ Then _ Stan breathed deep, like he had been holding his breath. He pushed out of the closet and shoved Kevin back inside when his body crumpled out after him.

“I'm sorry, Kevin,” Stan murmured, pressing the closet shut with his dead friend inside.

It was wrong to leave him, but he couldn't take any chances- couldn't leave any traces. … What if Trent wanted to do something to Kevin, and saw that he was missing?

Stan had to get back to Kenny and Kyle.

He stepped over Carla’s body while heading for the door, but he kicked something hard and looked down. A sledgehammer. It was Trent’s sledgehammer.

There was the sound of whistling, but it quickly died off, and Stan glanced back to the secret entrance. Trent Boyett stood there, his hood pulled over his head to mask his identity that Stan had already seen. The killer had come back for his hammer.

He didn’t move for a moment, standing there while Stan watched him, the noirette’s eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Stan, Stan, Stan. Marsh. Where’ve you been hiding, huh?” Trent didn’t move, brought an arm up to stretch it over his chest. Stan wasn’t particularly sure if Trent knew he was in the closet or not, but they both knew each other’s identities, so survival meant one of them was going.

“You know, you look the same. Haven't changed a bit. Bet you're even still scared of me, huh,” Trent drawled, and stepped forward.

“Who’d be scared of a waste like you? At least I can say I didn't suffer ass rape in prison,  _ Trent _ .” Stan swallowed, watching as Trent paused. The blonde seemed to be processing things, and his head turned to the direction of Carla’s body.

“Hm. Ah, you’re pretty sick Stan; hiding and watching people- don’t you know there’s laws for peeping Toms?” Trent stretched his other arm over his chest before reaching up and grabbing the tip of his hood. He seemed to contemplate pulling it off, but he ultimately dropped his hand back down to his side. Then he charged forward at Stan, and the noirette dipped down to grab the sledgehammer before turning quick and bolting out of the room.

Trent Boyett was quick on his tail, so Stan chucked the sledgehammer back at the blonde, but Trent was fast to react and gripped the top of the doorframe, hoisting himself up and bending his legs to allow the hammer to fly under him, crashing back into room 111.

Stan faltered in his run a bit at that, but he quickly picked the pace back up when Trent dropped down, grinning behind his large hood.

“Playing hard to get?” the blonde cackled after Stan, charging after him. Stan was smaller than him, and he managed to keep out of his grasp- until he reached the stairs.

Clyde had just begun descending the stairs to the Manager’s office when he heard yelling and stepped back up. Stan was running for him, with a big guy after him laughing.

“Clyde, run!” Stan yelled and looked back at Trent to see how close he was, but Clyde was frozen, trying to process what was going on or where he could go, because the two were already gaining on him too fast for him to think.

“Wh-” He stepped down once, but it wasn’t enough, and Stan bumped into him.  The two went crashing down the stairs.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GoogleDocs hasn't been letting me access my fic, so I've been on halt most of the time on writing it, but I just switched back to LibreOffice so it's all good now. There should be one more chapter after this unless it turns into two more, but other than that, we're almost done.
> 
> Since I can't use GoogleDocs, my beta can't beta! Apologies! I also don't want to interrupt her holiday fun- happy holidays to everyone!

 

“Ugh- get up, get up!” Stan pushed up on his hands and knees once down, untangling himself from Clyde's twisted body. Stan had landed on the ground level, one of his legs underneath Clyde's back, who had landed halfway on and off of the stairs with Stan, his top half on the steps with his head against one.

“What the hell?” Clyde breathed, looking at Stan through eyes narrowed with pain and discomfort. Stan looked at Clyde before slipping his gaze past him, to the top of the staircase.

Trent was standing there, sledgehammer in hand, whistling- whistling that damn annoying tune he had been earlier. He had really gone back and got his hammer.

Clyde looked back, up the stairs after Stan's gaze, and he started getting up.

“What the fuck, dude?” he groaned with the pain that littered his body, and Stan nodded in agreement as he finished standing, pulling Clyde up. It was Trent. Of anyone, it had to be him.

Trent started descending the stairs and the other two took to backing away.

“You two scared? Come on, Stan, you're gonna wimp out now?” Trent spoke and Stan swallowed dryly but didn't move on his own accord. Clyde gripped Stan by the arm and pulled him along to the front doors, and the two pushed them.

They didn't budge.

Trent laughed.

“Sucks, don't it? This place was built really nice!” he called.

“Fuck you, Trent! What the fuck is all this shit, huh? What do you think you're doing here?” Stan turned from the stubborn glass doors to Trent, who was almost to the floor level.

He shrugged. “It sounded like a good deal. Don't blame _me_ for you coming here. I'm just taking advantage of the opportunity,” Trent smiled.

“Stan, the manager's room,” Clyde spoke, and Stan glanced over to the front desk. It was where Clyde and Bebe had gone earlier, and if they could get inside, they could get away from Trent. He didn't look like he was that fast; but then again, he also didn't look like he could dodge a sledgehammer.

Stan pushed off of the doors and started running for the front desk in the dim dark, Clyde running straight after him.

“No you don't,” Trent hopped over the staircase's railing, which let him land near the two, and he swung the hammer out, where it went between Stan and Clyde. It almost missed, but it managed to catch Stan right on the shoulder blade, smashing his bone beneath his clothing and skin and shattering it, making the noirette drop down to the floor with a scream of pain.

Clyde kicked the floor so that he wouldn't run into Stan, and he grit his teeth and turned to Trent, getting him in the cheek with a left hook that made him double to the side.

“Stan, get up!” Clyde reached out to grip Stan under the arms, so that he could pull him up, but he himself was sent to the ground when Trent hit him hard over the head with the butt of the sledgehammer’s handle.

Clyde's head spun and he tried pushing himself up, but he didn't need to. Trent pulled Clyde up and gripped him by the neck before lifting him into the air. The brunette gasped and reached up to grip Trent's wrist, and the blonde tightened his hold.

Bringing Clyde close to him, Trent moved his mouth to the struggling brunette's ear.

“I'm not allowed to kill you,” he whispered to the man and squeezed him tighter around the throat before shoving him away. Clyde fell against the counter of the front desk and Trent turned his attention to Stan, who was lying on his side and gripping his arm, writhing and crying out in pain.

Trent Boyett knelt to Stan's form. He put down his hammer and pushed Stan onto his back, the noirette exclaiming in pain as his shoulder hit the floor. Trent lifted a leg over him to straddle the noirette, and then he placed his hands over Stan's throat, the man shaking his head and writhing against the floor, guttural screams of anguish slipping through his lips.

“I'm going to kill you,” Trent spoke softly, applying more pressure with his hands. Stan clawed at the blonde's hands, gripped his wrists tight to try pulling his hands away, bucked his hips to get the blonde off of him.

“Get off of me! Clyde!” Stan's voice wasn't loud, it was strained and desperate, but Clyde was gripping his head and failing to get up, his other hand slipping out from under him.

“Clyde!” Stan cried as Trent's grip got tighter, and then he gasped as the air was cut from his throat. Trent's hands tightened and Stan shut his eyes in pain, brought his hands to Trent's to try prying them off, but he couldn't get underneath the blonde's fingers and ended up scratching his own neck in his desperateness.

Trent applied more pressure and then- _crack_! It was a soft crack that Trent didn't hear, but Stan could feel it. He felt the fracture of his hyoid and he choked underneath Trent, whose face had a small smile plastered on it as he watched Stan's life slowly leave him- as _he_ slowly stole Stan's life from him.

Stan's movements became softer and Trent seemed to feel heavier on top of him. His fingers were tingly as he tried clawing Trent's hands and wrists, and Stan opened his eyes but all he could see was darkness. Everything was dark.

Stan parted his numb lips to try sneaking a breath, but nothing came, just saliva that dripped from his mouth.

Trent gave Stan's throat two tight squeezes and then a strong bit to the head knocked him off of Stan.

Clyde slammed the sledgehammer into Trent's head again and the blonde hit the ground. He hit him again and again and again until blood was flying off of the hammer, and then he dropped it, his hands weak from the blow to his own head.

The brunette dropped down to his knees before falling to the floor on his side, and he looked at Stan.

“Jesus Christ dude, we…” he trailed off when Stan didn't move, stayed still against the floor, his eyes opened just slightly.

“... Stan?” Clyde pushed up onto an elbow and looked at Stan's face, but he was...still.

“Oh my god,” Clyde put his ear to Stan's mouth but there were no breaths, so he got up to his knees and put his hands on Stan's chest before pressing down.

He had as much knowledge as anyone else on CPR; he had to practice it to graduate high school. In school, he had to breathe into the dummy's mouth, but as an adult, he was told that it stopped whatever work had been done.

He didn't breathe into Stan's mouth. He pressed his chest, but Stan didn't breathe.

He didnt breathe.

l.l

Kyle was groggy. There was an immediate stench that drifted to his nose, burning his sinuses and making him wince and cough.

There was a wheezing beside him, and he rolled his head to the side, his vision only slightly impaired. He wasn’t blindfolded. He could see Butters, lying with his eyes closed, mouth bloody and lips parted. He looked ill, and his face was clammy.

There was a shuffling sound somewhere off in the room, but Kyle was too tired to lift his head and look. He didn’t have to, though.

Butters was pulled off of the bed, his body being pulled down from Kyle’s view. When Butters’ form hit the floor with a _thud_ , he woke up and started screaming.

Screaming, screaming-

“Stop screaming,” Kyle whispered despite himself, his jade eyes on the wall across from him.

“Stop! St-op!” Butters cried, and whoever had him didn’t say anything. Kyle could see Butter’s struggling form dragged across from him, near the wall that he was looking at, someone in a hoodie dragging him by his legs. Butters tried grabbing things; a table leg, the foot of the bed, a ruined newspaper, or magazine that he threw at the man dragging him.

There was a chest sitting against the wall in Kyle’s view, and the man dropped Butters’ legs to open it. The fallen blonde screamed in pain when his legs hit the floor, and he rolled onto his side to try crawling away. The man reached back down and grabbed Butters again, pulling him to him on the floor.

Then he lifted him up and put him in the chest, shoving him inside and slapping Butters’ hands when the blonde tried shoving him away, and climbing out of the chest.

“I’ll cut off your nose, Butters,” the man, Sick, said. Butters sobbed and pulled his hands into the chest with him, and then Sick slammed the top shut, locking him in. Butters screamed from inside, but his voice was muffled from the entrapment.

Sick turned to the bed that Kyle lay on, but the redhead couldn’t see his face because of his hood. The man walked to the bed and sat on it, where Butters was, facing the wall so that his back was to Kyle.

He sat silently for a long while, long enough for Butters’ cries and screams to die down.

“Do you think this is a mess?” he asked, tilting his head to the side so that he could listen to Kyle if he spoke.

Kyle felt able to speak this time, so he did.

“Yes.”

“Mm.” Sick gave a little nod and Kyle could hear an exhale from him.

“... Is this a mess?”  Sick turned to face Kyle, but his hood covered his identity.

Kyle just dropped his gaze, because he was too tired to nod or do anything.

Sick rested a cold hand on Kyle’s cheek, and then he sighed. He caressed his thumb over Kyles soft flesh before laying back and resting his hooded head on Kyle’s stomach as a pillow.

“You must be hungry,” he said, but Kyle didn’t reply. His stomach didn’t either, too empty to rumble.

“...Me too,” Sick added, staring up at the ceiling. “Me too.”

Butters’ screaming picked back up from inside of the chest, but Kyle didn’t move, and neither did Sick.

When Kyle opened his eyes, the ceiling looked different. Instead of being dark, it was a shaded beige, with some sort of light shining up to it. There was a faint scent of rot in his nose, but it seemed to be more of an after effect than what the room really smelled of. If Kyle could get through the scent of death, he could get the faint smell of fabric softener.

He tried propping himself up on his elbows, but his creases hurt and he lay back down. They felt like they were missing flesh, like his bones were rubber.

He rolled onto his side and found himself looking at clean sheets, but it didn’t calm him. He worked on shimmying his body off of the bed, his body that felt so ill and heavy. He had a pulsing headache and his eyeballs were throbbing inside of his head.

He fell off. The floor was soft for being wood, but it still hurt against Kyle's bruises. Other than that, he was starting to wake up. He just felt… fake. He felt like he wasn’t really in his body likebecause when he pushed up to try crawling, his limbs felt numb.

There was the sound of rustling in the room, and then a gasp.

“Kenny, Kyle’s gone!” Wendy called, rolling on her bed to look over at Kyle’s empty one. She had been drifting into sleep until she heard the sound of Kyle falling.

The bathroom door opened and Kenny came out, walking to Kyle’s bed to peek around for him. The redhead hadn’t moved because he couldn’t bring himself to, and he just stared at Kenny when the blonde came into his view, not knowing exactly if he was really there or not.

“Kyle?” A meek smile spread on Kenny's face and there looked to be something in his eyes- worry?

Kyle stared at Kenny, his foggy mind working around the blonde's features, seeing if he was real, if he was kind.

“Is he okay?” Wendy asked, and Kenny looked Kyle over before looking back into his eyes.

“Are you? Okay?” he asked Kyle, moving a little closer. Kyle didn't move, but his eyes widened in fear, and Kenny paused.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, look; Wendy’s over there,” he nodded to Wendy’s direction, the woman propped up on an elbow and watching them. Kyle glanced over to Wendy with his wide eyes and he watched her for a moment before looking back at Kenny. He brought his arms up just a little, and Kenny moved forward to wrap his own arms around his friend, pulling him into a hug.

“Are you okay?” Kenny asked again but Kyle had started crying. It was silent, but his body was racked with trembles and there were some tears that slipped through his eyelashes.

“I wanted to go home,” Kyle whispered, but his voice cracked and his words were almost silent.

_After leaving Kenny in his room, Kyle went to his own so that he could call his mom. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He didn’t want to do anything anymore._

_He knew that he had left his phone on the bedside table but when he reached for it, it was gone. Again. His things had been being taken, or rearranged, and it was driving him crazy._

“ _I must really be losing my_ fucking _mind. Coming here,” he shook his head bitterly and plopped down onto his bed, shaking his head more in anger._

“ _Oh my god- why is this happening to me?” he sighed and brought his hands up to his face, slipping them into his hair so that he could grip his red curls. Then he groaned and dropped his hands into his lap before glancing off to the side._ Where’s my phone gonna be _this_ time? _he thought and dropped onto his back on the bed to look at the ceiling. He closed his eyes because he didn’t like the blandness of it, and he just took to breathing._

_But then there was a sharp pain in his neck, so sharp and sudden that he jumped up from the bed, but he was grabbed hard by the shoulder and thrust back down onto his back. Then there was a heavy pain in his neck, and he knew it was a needle. He had just been injected with something._

_The needle was pulled from his neck and he grunted in pain before sitting up on the bed again and standing. He put his hand to his neck and pulled it away to look at it, but there wasn’t any substance on his skin, not even his blood. Looking behind him at the bed, there was a man. The one who had injected him. He was in a dark hoodie and Kyle couldn’t see his face, but it didn’t matter. His vision was getting fuzzy._

_Kyle started walking to the front door but his legs got heavy and he stumbled._

_He could hear footsteps coming up to him, so he shook his head to try clearing his vision and limped to the door. He had forgotten to lock it again, but he was sure that wasn’t how the man got in. He must have come in through the window somehow, or maybe he had come in earlier when Kyle wasn’t in. Either way, the door was unlocked, and it was a heavy relief because Kyle didn’t think that his fingers would be able to do the lock._

_He managed to open the door, but he collapsed right then, falling against the door frame. Down the hallway, he could see Wendy. She wasn’t looking at him, but he tried getting her to. He tried calling her name but nothing came out. He tried waving a hand to get her attention, but just as he managed to raise his arm, his feet were grabbed and he was pulled back into the room._

_He didn’t know when he had started crying, but he noticed it when his assailant knelt down and swiped a finger underneath Kyle’s eye, catching a stray tear. He didn’t hurt him. He didn’t strike Kyle, or yell at him for anything; he just wiped his tear, stood back up, and walked to the door to shut it._

_Then the hooded man walked back to Kyle and grabbed him by his feet again before dragging him across the room._

“We’re gonna go home, okay?” Kenny looked at Kyle’s face and brought up a hand to wipe his tears. Kyle reached up and grabbed Kenny’s wrist before he could touch him.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, and Kenny gave a small nod.

“Alright.”

Kyle sighed deeply and spoke after a moment of silence. “You don’t have Butters, do you?” he asked. Kenny furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“No, do you know where he is?”

Kyle nodded. “Help me stand.”

“I don’t think he should!” Wendy called and tried getting up from the bed, but her leg had been still for so long that when a single muscle twitched, it sent a sharp pain up that made her wince and lay back down.

“Yeah, I don’t think-”

“Help me Kenny, or they’ll get him first,” Kyle cut Kenny off and coughed from his throat being dry. Kenny huffed and motioned.

“Fine, alright. Grab-”

Kyle grabbed Kenny’s shoulders before he could finish talking, and Kenny glanced back at Wendy.

“Wendy, he’s gonna take me to Butters; stay in here and wait for Clyde or Stan, they should be coming back real soon,” he said and Wendy shook her head with a sigh.

“...Fine. Just hurry, I’m not feeling too good.”

Kenny nodded to her and stood with Kyle, standing there so that the redhead could get his balance and work his legs. Kyle’s legs were still numb, but he didn’t say anything and just focused on his balance, which he could force himself to keep. As long as Kenny thought he was okay.

“Okay?” Kenny asked and Kyle nodded.

“Let’s go, I can go,” Kyle said and let go of Kenny’s shoulders, but the blonde was reluctant and didn’t let go of the latter for a moment. Kyle looked at Kenny with his dark eyes and then Kenny let him go, because he didn’t want to look into them.

“...There's an entrance in my room's bathroom,” Kyle said. Kenny didn’t ask how he knew or anything, just nodded.

“Okay.” The blonde turned to walk to the door and Kyle stepped after him, but his weak legs made him stumble and he almost fell but caught himself. Kenny glanced back, pausing so that Kyle could catch up, because he figured Kyle didn’t want his help. After a moment of regaining himself, Kyle slowly walked after Kenny.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, our remaining survivors try escaping the hotel that still has a remaining killer.

**Chapter Thirteen**

  
  


Wendy woke up when a sharp pain traveled up her leg, and she sat up on the bed. From the look of it, Clyde was sitting on the bed beside her and had just lifted her leg from the mattress.

“O-w, what are you doing?” She looked at Clyde’s face, the brunette pausing slightly before bending her leg up on the bed. On his lap there was an open aid kit with bandages and pressure pads.

He looked terrible, and it made Wendy feel uneasy. She furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, trying to lock eyes with Clyde as he escaped her gaze.

“...What’s wrong? What happened to you?” she asked lightly, noticing a small twitch in Clyde’s jaw as he brought his hands to the box in his lap, just holding the sides.

After a little moment, he glanced at Wendy and motioned slightly.

“I was going to bandage your leg,” he said, reaching inside the box to grab the roll of bandages. Wendy sat up enough so that she was comfortable, and then she peeked closer at Clyde.

“But there’s something wrong. What is it? Did you find Bebe or Stan yet?”

“...No.” Clyde shook his head again, softly, and then he dropped his gaze down to his lap. He was quiet for a while before speaking again.

“Promise you’ll keep your eyes closed when we leave,” he whispered, and Wendy narrowed her eyes at him in question, before nodding.

“...Alright.”

l.l

Kyle was slow but adamant that he could walk on his own, so Kenny let him, walking behind him so that he could protect him or catch him if he fell. He also knew the way to the entrance, so Kenny let him lead.

Despite Kyle’s walk gradually getting better, Kenny had the instinct to reach out and touch him, just a light touch on his arm or elbow, but he didn't act in it and put his hands in his pockets.

They made it into Kyle’s room, looking just as it had earlier; neat and tidy, like nothing had happened. He raised a hand and pointed at the bathroom, where the door was shut.

“That’s where he took me,” he said, his voice soft from being worn. Kenny nodded in understanding, stepping forward so that he could stand beside Kyle and look at him.

“Do you want me to go first?”

Kyle glanced at Kenny, his eyes still looking tired and sick. He shook his head lightly. “It’s okay.”

Kenny watched him for a little moment before nodding and looking away. “...Okay.”

They walked to the bathroom and Kyle opened the door, stepping inside with Kenny behind him. It looked like all of the other rooms, the same layout. Kenny didn’t notice anything abnormal until Kyle walked to the wall beside the shower and brought up a hand, putting a finger into a little hole that Kenny now realized was there. After putting his finger in the hole, Kyle moved back just a little bit, pulling what looked to be another secret entrance open. Then he paused and looked back at Kenny.

“...I don’t know what’s in here,” he said softly. “I passed out.”

Kenny stepped forward and, after a moment’s hesitation, put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, looking at him.

“I’m sorry that all that stuff happened to you, but you don’t need to feel that you have to come. You can wait here for me and I’ll go-”

“I want to see what they were giving me,” Kyle spoke up, looking at the blonde. “I want to see what they were doing.”

Kenny gave a low exhale and nodded again, turning his gaze to the entrance. “Alright,” he sighed before stepping forward, so that he could be in front of Kyle. “Just stay with me, alright? There’s a lot of crazy stuff here.” He leaned forward so that he could peek inside, and the first thing he saw was a small hallway, just a few feet long. The only thing there was a door to the right, so Kenny carefully stepped into the hall and went to the door, testing the doorknob. It was unlocked.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open just a crack to peek inside. It was pitch black, but he couldn’t hear anything. Pulling out his phone, he turned on his flashlight and put his hand over it, only letting a bit of light slip out so that he could look at things.

It looked like a normal, empty room. There were no beds; it had only the faint smell of stench and a lounge chair up against a wall. Kenny looked back at Kyle and motioned a hand. “It’s empty, you can come on,” he said, dropping his hand from the light so that the room could be illuminated.

Kyle stepped after Kenny, following him into the empty room with the chair. Beside it, there was a bedside table with a cam-recorder, an ashtray, and some stray beer bottles. There was also a syringe, but it looked to be empty.

Kyle walked to the chair, Kenny just behind him.

“He was watching me,” the redhead said, putting a hand on the back of the chair. It sat facing the wall, only a leg space separating the two. Kyle moved his hand to the wall, where he traced his finger over a small hole. Kenny cleared his throat a little and tapped Kyle’s upper arm.

“We gotta get going,” he said.

Kyle nodded with a little exhale. “Okay.” He turned from the chair and looked around, seeing where it was that they were supposed to go.

“There’s something over here,” Kenny said and stepped away from Kyle, walking to the wall north of the room. It was another door, but it’s handle was a rusty old hatch that was hard to see in the dark. “You stay there,” Kenny looked back at Kyle as he walked to the door, and Kyle exhaled but nodded, not following the blonde.

Instead, he stepped to the table while Kenny went to explore the passageway. There wasn’t a lighter with the cigarettes, so whoever had been smoking them, probably Sick, most likely had it with him. The cigarette pack was missing, too. There were just used sticks snuffed out into the ashtray and onto the table.

Kyle reached out to pick up the syringe. Its needle was still intact, and despite it being empty, he could use it for something else; like protection.

“It looks empty!” Kenny called, glancing back at Kyle just as the redhead was putting the syringe in his big jacket’s pocket. Kyle slipped it inside and made his way to Kenny, peeking into the room through the slightly open door. Kenny pushed the door open and stepped inside, Kyle letting the man pass first.

“Do you recognize this room?” Kenny asked, flashing his light around to look. Kyle gave a light shrug and started looking around. It was a smaller room, with things scattered around and piling trash. There was really just a locker, up against a wall, but the men didn’t go to it.

“No,” Kyle replied, looking at a pile of trash. What was the point of these rooms? The first was empty with a chair, and this one was just crowded with nameless junk. But, from the looks of how old the trash was, the guys must have been here for a long time. Kenny sighed and Kyle looked over.

The blonde was rubbing his neck, flashing his light around with his other hand.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked.

“There’s not a door. Who the hell built this place?” Kenny walked to a wall, knocking on it before shaking his head and knocking on a different one. Kyle headed over so that he could do the same, glancing over at Kenny.

“Why haven’t you all left yet?” he asked. Kenny looked at him, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What? Because they… I’m gonna kill that guy.” Kenny gave a light, single shouldered shrug, shaking his head. “...I’m gonna kill him.”

“Which one?”

“What do you mean, which one?”

“Which freak are you going to kill?”

Kenny gave Kyle a look and leaned against the wall so that he could ask him something, but the wall opened and the blonde fell. Kyle blinked and stepped forward, looking in through the open wall.

“Ken?” Kyle could see Kenny’s phone lying on its back, muffling the light into the floor. Other than that, he couldn’t see anything. “Kenny.” Kyle took a slow step forward, to see what had happened, but then he heard shuffling and backed back up.

“What the hell is this?” Kenny grunted, sitting up on the floor. Reaching back, he touched his head and felt that it was wet, something thick and sticky.

“Are you alive?” Kyle asked from his safe spot, and Kenny felt around for his phone, his hand touching more wetness on the floor. “Yeah,” he replied, wiping his hand on his pants before trying for his phone again. Once he found it, he wiped its back against his pants to clean it of whatever it and he had fallen in. Then he stood up, raising his light so that he could see.

The first thing that he did see, were guts. Guts dripping from a pale body, hanging by a noose. It made Kenny jump back, but he slipped on the floor and fell onto his butt. He crawled back until he was out of what he now knew was a blood puddle, dark and coagulated.

“Who the hell is that?” Kyle asked from behind Kenny, dipping down to help pull the blonde up, but he couldn’t do much because bending his arms felt like they had crushed muscle. Kenny got up again, bumping into Kyle on accident, and flashing his light at the body again.

It was hard to tell who it wastheir face was ruined, soaked in blood and torn flesh. It was a girl, though; her shirt torn open and showing her breasts and gaping stomach. Kenny knew who it was, though, because her hair was blonde and long, wavy. Kyle didn’t see because he was looking down at himself, to the blood that Kenny had bumped into him. When he looked up, Kenny turned and covered the redhead’s eyes.

“Don’t look.”

“Why?”

“Just keep your eyes closed and hold onto me. I’ll guide you passed it.” Kenny could feel Kyle’s eyelashes as the man closed his eyes, the sensation tickling Kenny’s fingers. Then the redhead reached out, wrapping his arms limply around one of Kenny’s, and the other man started walking with him, flashing his light and looking away from Bebe’s body. He shook his head, pressing his lips together.

“Who was it?” Kyle asked, walking slowly as Kenny led him around the puddle of blood. The tall blonde exhaled, shakily.

“...It’s Bebe.” He found an open archway, walking Kyle to it.

“Does Clyde know she’s gone?”

“No. Or that she was fucking  _ pregnant _ .”

Kyle didn’t reply, letting Kenny lead him off. When they passed through the archway, Kenny stopped walking, and Kyle opened his eyes. They were in a room with a wooden chair in the center. Beside it was a small table that held syringes, empty and full, with some blood coating the ends of a few. There was vomit on the floor beside the chair, and there was a sting of rope sitting on it.

“This is where he kept me,” Kyle said quietly, looking around the room. There was another table, against a wall that had a TV and camera video tapes. Kenny saw something on the table that he wanted to look at, but he turned to Kyle first.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, looking at the man’s wandering eyes. After a small moment, Kyle nodded.

“Yeah.”

“...Okay.” Kenny slipped his arm away from Kyle, patting the man’s upper arm softly before leaving to the table against the wall, where he started looking at the things on its top. Kyle stepped forward to the chair, stepping over the puke. He dipped down so that he could touch the rope, taking it up into his hand to look at it.

“Kyle,” Kenny called out, and the redhead looked over. The blonde was holding up a small, black device that had a green light on it. Kyle cleared his throat.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a cell phone blocker. This is what they’re using to cut off the service.” Kenny put his phone down on the table, letting his light stare up at the ceiling so that he could look at the blocker, rolling it around in both of his hands as he checked it out. Kyle glanced back down at the chair before walking over to Kenny and taking up the man’s phone.

“We can call the police, then?” Kyle asked, looking at the blonde as he examined the device. Kenny nodded.

“If I can figure out how to turn it off,” he muttered, running his fingers over the smooth outside. He had seen them before, but like technology, there were advanced models. This was one. Did it have a remote?

A new smell hit Kyle’s nose, and he looked at the archway of the room. He couldn’t hear anything, but the smell got just a little stronger. What was it? Smoke? Burning… burning wood? Kyle stepped away from the table with Kenny’s phone, taking careful steps back to the archway. Burning paper. Paper? Kenny looked over at Kyle when he noticed the light leaving, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Kyle, where are you going?”

Kyle ignored him, walking to the archway and pausing just before it. He flashed the light into the other room, where he could see the back of Bebe’s body and the other things that filled the room.

Burning… burning… Cigarette. It was cigarette smoke. Bebe’s body creaked on the noose as something rocked it, and Kyle turned to rush back to Kenny, the blonde watching him in confusion.

“What-”

“Sh!” Kyle put his hand over Kenny’s mouth to hush him. Then he started looking around the room. Where did they take him after this room? Where was the door? Looking around, there were only walls and a wardrobe; the room had probably been a bedroom at one point. Where was the door?

“What’s wrong, Kyle?” Kenny grabbed Kyle’s shoulder and the redhead snapped his attention to him. He exhaled sharply.

“Sick is here.”

“...Sick?”

“Hide. We need to hide.” Kyle flashed the light around to look further, but Kenny had seen the wardrobe. He grabbed Kyle and started pushing him towards it.

“Get in there and turn off the flashlight.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll find another spot.” Kenny pulled open the wardrobe doors and a full body fell out, pale and headless, but there was no blood. Either it had been drained, or it had been done a while ago.

“Don’t put that in with me,” Kyle breathed, eyes wide. Kenny pulled his coat sleeves over his hands and knelt down, grabbing the body under the arms and pulling it away. He paused when Kyle just stood there watching him, and he dropped the body to push him, the redhead stumbling into the wardrobe. Then Kenny shut the doors.

It was silent inside of the wardrobe, and stuffy. Being in here alone, could kill someone. It was also pitch black inside once Kyle shut off the light. And then, nothing happened.

For the longest time, nothing happened. There were no noises or disturbances. Kyle waited for a long, long moment before pushing one of the doors open, just a crack. He didn’t see anything. Pushing the door open slightly more, he jumped when a silhouette passed in the darkness, in front of the wardrobe doors. Kyle could smell the cigarette as Sick passed by.

Then the TV was turned on, and it was static. The light from it, though, let Kyle see Sick perfectly, walking to the chair and sitting in it. Underneath the TV’s table, Kyle could see the little green light from the device. Then it turned red, and Kenny’s phone vibrated in Kyle’s hand.

Kyle watched Sick for a minute, making sure that he was occupied, and he seemed to be getting there; getting up from the chair and walking back to the table, where he grabbed a tape to play on the TV. Then Kyle shut the wardrobe doors again, so that he would be safe again.

Looking down at Kenny’s phone, he could see full service bars. Kenny had a password on, but Kyle pressed the emergency number and dialed in 911.

_ Ring. _

_ Ring. _

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I-I need help, my friends-”

“You need to speak up, sir,” the operator said into the phone. Kyle breathed and closed his eyes in irritation.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, slightly louder, and the operator replied with a “yes”.

“My friends and I are...” Kyle furrowed his eyebrows, hearing something on the other side of the wardrobe, from the television.

“Yes? Are you in danger?”

“...Yeah. Yes, there are these people here, killing us in this-” There was another sound from the TV, and Kyle pushed the doors open a crack, to look. It was himself. He was so drugged that he couldn’t speak, his eyes closed and his body looking heavy. The camera moved down his body and Kyle’s blood got cold, his stomach turning. He was being raped by Sick, but the monster was also cutting him, carving something into Kyle’s right hip.

“Sir, are you still there?” The operator asked, but Kyle didn’t hear them, lifting up his clothes to look at his hip.

_ C+K _ , carved into the center of a heart. There was a loud sound from the television and Kyle looked up from his body to see what had happened, but his eyes fell on Sick instead, standing right in front of the wardrobe. It made Kyle scream, and he dropped the phone when Sick pulled the doors open, reaching inside to grab at the redhead. There was the sound of a heavy smack and Sick doubled over, Kenny standing behind him with the wooden chair, which he had cracked over his back.

“Run!” Kenny grabbed Kyle by the arm, pulling him from the wardrobe. The redhead stumbled over Sick’s recovering body, but he ran nonetheless. Then he remembered the door, though. A curtain hanging beside the table, blending in with the wall, that led to the bedroom where he and Butters had been taken to before. Running to it, he paused and looked back at Kenny.

The blonde had Sick against the wall, punching him in the face in what looked like his knuckles would shatter. Then Kyle saw something glint in the room’s bad lighting.

“Kenny!” He yelled and the blonde looked over. Thin metal slid quickly into Kenny’s skin, upward into his stomach and stopping just before a rib bone. He gasped at the pain of it when Sick shoved it in further, the tip carving deeper into his insides, and then he grunted when the knife was pulled out. Kenny dropped his hands down to touch the wound, his shirt swelling quickly with blood. Then he grit his teeth and slammed his body into Sick, banging the man harshly against the wall, but Sick thrust the knife into Kenny again, slamming it into his side and burying the whole blade inside of the blonde’s flesh. He shoved Kenny back and the blonde stumbled before falling onto his back.

Kyle had run over, and he slammed his syringe into Sick’s neck with a distressed yell, pulling it out and slamming it back in when the hooded man looked at him in surprise, a pained grunt emitting from him. Kyle pulled the syringe out to stab him again, but the needle was missing, buried into Sick’s flesh.

It was surprising enough to make Kyle pause and look at the needless syringe, and Sick didn’t waste any time in throwing his elbow out, knocking Kyle in the nose and cracking the cartilage into spilling blood. Kyle doubled over in pain, but Sick shoved him against the wall, pushing the redhead’s legs apart so that he could press against him, trapping the other man. Then he brought his hands up to Kyle’s throat, cutting off his airway instantly by squeezing as hard as he could.

In his panic to breath, Kyle accidentally inhaled through his nose, sucking blood down into his throat and choking him. He brought his hands up to claw at Sick’s wrists, shutting his eyes in pain when the grip got tighter. He tried kicking, and wriggling, but his assailant was safe from his leg range, and his body pressed against Kyle’s kept him pinned to the wall.

“Just say you love me and I’ll stop,” Sick whispered, but Kyle couldn’t even utter a syllable because Sick tightened his grip more. Opening his bloodshot eyes, Kyle could see Kenny trying to get up from the floor, stumbling and falling onto the blade, making him cry out and scream in pain. It made Kyle quiver, hearing Kenny scream. Then he looked back at Sick, his vision filling with black spots that made it hard to see.

Bringing a hand back, Kyle gripped Sick’s hood and pulled it down.

Craig stared at Kyle, his blue eyes circled in grey from lack of sleep and his veins red, possibly from a drug. He grit his teeth and tightened his grip, but Kyle scratched his neck where he had lost the needle inside, and then Craig made an angry noise before throwing Kyle down onto the ground, the redhead rasping and coughing dryly, his body limp as it tried to process that he was free.

Craig went to Kyle and kicked him hard in the gut, the fallen man losing his air and wheezing. “You’re supposed to love me,” Craig kicked him again, the redhead choking out a sob as he tried breathing, his breaths burning his chest like he had run a marathon. Then Craig kicked him again, and blood speckled onto Kyle’s chin when he coughed. His head was spinning and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. It was like he had taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills. There was a tear that trailed down his cheek, into his hair, and Craig stopped to glare down at the man.

“Craig,” Kenny sounded, his breath cracking from his pained, drowsy state. Craig turned like he was going to hit him, but Kenny stabbed the knife into Craig’s chest, his own side soaked in blood. Pulling the knife out, Kenny slammed it back in again, Craig huffing at the force of it. He stepped back, but he stumbled on Kyle’s body, tripping and falling onto his back like Kenny had.

“I said I was going to kill you,” Kenny breathed, stepping over Kyle’s body to Craig, who was struggling with his own breath as he looked down at the knife in his chest. Then he rolled his eyes up to Kenny, and he smiled like he was going to say something, but Kenny stomped down on the knife, burying it deep in Craig’s chest and killing him.

Kenny gave a long exhale, looking down at Kyle. The redhead was wheezing, eyes shut and body heavy. Kenny stepped back over Kyle, walking to the curtain and going through, tearing it down as he passed.

He saw the bed that he had freed Kyle from, and looked around with his heavy eyes. “Butters,” he called, his voice slurring as he got more tired. There was no response.

“Butters!” He called again, stumbling passed the bed. There was still no reply. On the wall though, above a chest, there was a newspaper article stapled up. Walking to it, Kenny read what was circled in red, an obituary.

Jonathan Kross killed by lethal injection after murdering more than fifty guests at a hotel. He iwas succeeded by his unnamed son and ex-wife, Laura.

“What the fuck is this?” Kenny muttered to himself before taking a seat on the chest, to rest.

Screams erupted from the chest and Kenny jumped up, wincing and cupping a hand over the stab in his side. “Butters?” He looked at the chest, kneeling to open it when the screams were joined by banging on the inside of the chest.

Wendy cried herself to sleep against Clyde after hitting and screaming at him when she saw Stan’s corpse, the two sitting on the backseat’s floorboard of Stan’s car after Clyde busted a window of the hotel with Trent’s hammer, letting them escape. Butters lay asleep on the backseat, his hips broken from whatever Trent had done to him, clammy. Kenny and Kyle sat in the front, Kenny in the driver’s seat and Kyle in the passenger’s, both asleep, too, but Kenny’s stab wounds patched up by Clyde to the best of his ability.

Clyde was the only one awake, staring past Wendy’s head at the back door in front of them. He still didn’t know where Bebe was.

In the distance, he could hear police sirens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to read the epilogue, it helps wrap up the fic.


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 

“Kyle, are you coming?” Kenny called, wrapping some flowers into a few bouquets. They were supposed to visit Butters and Wendy in the hospital when Clyde came over, buying his own flowers for them. Wendy and Butters were still on bed rest for a few months; then they could start their physical therapy. Butters was doing well but Wendy was still depressed, getting one blow after another. Stan and Bebe were dead and she couldn’t attend their funerals. And after that, she had to have her leg amputated. One blow after another.

Kyle didn’t hear Kenny, looking at a class photo he had found while unpacking. It was all of them. Each and every one of them, happy. Even Craig.

_ Kyle laughed, falling against Kenny as they walked down the hallway. “You’re so stupid! Why would you-” he laughed again, Kenny rolling his eyes. _

“ _ Eh, it’s not that funny,” he said, despite his own smirk as he held back his laugh. Arms wrapped around the two’s shoulders and Stan popped his head between them, grinning. _

“ _ Hey, what’s so funny? I could hear you guys down the hall!” _

“ _ He snuck into Annie’s bedroom last night and her dad called the cops! Technically, he’s still on the run.” Kyle looked at Stan, the noirette looking at Kenny with a laugh. _

“ _ What? Dude!” _

_ Kyle bumped someone while they walked down the hall, and he looked down when he heard a clatter. Craig dropped down to pick up his fallen notebook, papers scattering out of it. _

“ _ Oh, my bad,” Kyle dropped down from Stan’s arm to kneel by Craig, snatching up papers and stacking them together. Craig watched him with the most utter fondness. _

“Kyle.”

Kyle jumped, turning quickly and backing into the small dresser, his heart beating quickly without a rhythm. Kenny cleared his throat, taking a step back from the redhead.

“...Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” Kyle swallowed his balled up fear, looking at Kenny with his eyes lidded in shyness. “...I’m okay.”


End file.
